


The Best By Far (Is You)

by cardinalstar



Series: Love In The 21st Century [1]
Category: DC's Legends of Tomorrow (TV), The Flash (TV 2014), The Flash - All Media Types
Genre: Big Belly Burger, Canon-Compliant, Cisco the Timestream Janitor, Found Families, Gen, Gratuitous Suits, Jealousy, M/M, Pre-Slash, Season 3 AU, Slow Burn, Time Travel, Timey-Wimey Puns, from a certain point of view, lots of sass, post-flashpoint
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-07-31
Updated: 2016-08-12
Packaged: 2018-07-28 08:48:01
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 20,642
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7633381
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/cardinalstar/pseuds/cardinalstar
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Barry reset the timeline when he saved his mother from dying at the hands of the Reverse-Flash, but the alternate future that resulted wasn't one he could live with.  With the help of Vibe, he was able to reset the timeline and undo his previous mistakes - but while the new life Barry is now living resembles his original timeline in most of the ways that matter, he's still struggling to adjust. </p><p>Of course, as usual, the devil is in the details.  And when Eobard Thawne accidentally winds up in the basement of STAR Labs, demanding to be returned to his own time, again, Barry can't help but feel like he and Cisco might have missed something important.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Rude Awakening

**Author's Note:**

  * For [WynterTwylight](https://archiveofourown.org/users/WynterTwylight/gifts).



> After about a week of furious keysmashing, I have finally finished writing the giftfic I promised WynterTwylight I would write. Seems like that happened forever ago, but it didn't! I hadn't intended this fic to become as long as it did; originally I was planning to keep this to 10k or less, but between the space I needed to tell the story and the sheer amount of fun I was having, it ended up much longer. Whoops. 
> 
> Because of how quickly I wrote this, I'm going to be posting it in sections as I go back and edit. This fic is complete! I just need to polish the last traces of manic 1-AM scribble out of it. 
> 
> In case anyone was curious, the title is a line from the song "Cecelia and the Satellite" by Andrew McMahon in the Wilderness, and the series title is the name of a fantastic song by Neon Trees that I may or may not have looped non-stop for a good two hours while I was writing this. 
> 
> Thanks go out to townwithoutheart and kashinoha for listening to my ideas and taking the time to beta-read this! You're both fantastic. 
> 
> Also, many thanks to WynterTwylight for being a wonderful Barrison co-conspirator and a better friend. Writing this was a ton of fun, and this AU - which is one of my favorite projects of all time - might not have happened if I hadn't been looking forward to giving it to you!

Barry was woken that morning, not by his alarm, but by his cell phone. 

He rolled over and snatched the phone off his bedside table, answering the call before he’d even processed what was happening.  “’Lo?”

“Barry!” said Cisco’s voice on the other end of the line.  “Thank god.  Sorry to wake you up this early, but I’m picking up on some odd temporal readings.  You should probably get down to STAR Labs.” 

“Temporal – okay, I’ll be right over.”  Barry flopped out of bed, pulled on a pair of sweatpants and reached over the bedside table to switch off his alarm.  It was 5:10 in the morning.  He sighed; a rare decent night of sleep cut short. 

He slipped quietly out of the front door and locked it behind him with a _click_.  He might be home in time for breakfast with Joe, but he doubted it. 

The city streets were deserted, and Barry was glad of it.  He had a straight shot to STAR Labs this way, and it was surprising how much of a difference dodging cars made when he was in a hurry. 

Barry blew through the doors of the Cortex, sending a cloud of papers flying.  “Really?” Cisco huffed, gathering an armful off the floor.  “You could have given me five seconds’ notice.” 

“It sounded urgent,” Barry said, bending over to grab another stack.  “What’s with all this, anyway?  I thought you designed the Chronotron to be entirely digital.” 

“It is,” Cisco said, taking the papers from Barry’s hands. 

Barry leaned down and extricated a small paperclipped stack from where it had fallen beneath one of the workbenches.  “Then what’s with all the paper notes?” 

Cisco nodded toward the packet Barry was holding before laying several more of his own pages in Barry’s hands.  “See for yourself.”

Barry’s eyes widened as he thumbed through the remaining pages, taking in the squiggly diagrams, the haphazard nature of the layout, and the way that nothing on the page made any kind of immediate scientific sense.  “Cisco, are these _vibes?_ ”

“Some of them,” Cisco said.  “When I’ve been sitting in the big swivel chair, they come almost nonstop if I let them.” 

Barry’s eyebrows rose.  “Has this been happening for long?” 

“A day or two,” Cisco said with a shrug.  “I wanted to make sure it was serious before I told you and Caitlin.”  He waved a hand to forestall Barry’s protests.  “But a few minutes ago, I was writing some notes on the whiteboard when I went into a vibe – and next thing I knew, I’d written _this._ ”

Cisco held up a sheet of paper, and when Barry saw what was written on it, he paled.  “But – that’s the beginning of the Speed Equation.  So that probably means –“

“ – More speedster drama,” Cisco finished.  “Plus… I’ve been getting a weird feeling that I’m not alone in here.” 

“Do you think it’s a time remnant?” Barry said, much more willing to embrace the possibility that his repairs had botched a timeline somewhere than the idea that his friend had been alone in the building with a potentially-malicious potential speedster for any length of time. 

Cisco shook his head.  “Nope, not this time.  I vibed the timeline – my nose did _not_ start gushing blood this time so don’t even give me that look – and there weren’t any branches away from the main, at least not right now.  No branching, so no time remnants.” 

“That’s good, I guess,” Barry said, rubbing the back of his neck.  It was definitely too early in the morning for timeline repairs.  “I’m still surprised that stopping myself from stopping the Reverse-Flash from killing my mother fixed so many of the changes.” 

“It was a fairly melodramatic point of divergence,” Cisco pointed out.  “And you came straight back to 2016 afterwards, so you didn’t directly alter the past any more after your original intervention.” 

Barry frowned thoughtfully.  “So you’re saying it could have been worse.” 

Cisco shot him a _look._ “Please don’t joke about turning reality into temporal spaghetti.  I may be the custodian of the timeline, but I am _not_ your janitor.” 

 _That_ got a laugh out of Barry.  It had been one of several blows that had hit hard upon returning from the past, the realization that he had been casually acquainted with Vibe in the new timeline, instead of being best friends with Cisco.  Repairing the timeline had brought them closer together, and there was also something to be said for being the only two people that remembered there had been two different versions of their current reality. 

“Alright,” Barry said, steering the conversation back onto a track less fraught with Doctor Who-style levels of _wibbly-wobbly, timey-wimey_.  “Let me make sure I’ve got everything.  You’ve been vibing all over the place, you pulled pieces of the Speed Equation out of thin air, you feel like you’re being watched, and to cap it all off the Chronotron monitor has been actively quantifying the spooky.” 

“Yep,” Cisco said, patting the sleek black box fondly.  “At least we know it works now.” 

“But has anything actually happened?” 

“I don’t think so?” Cisco said, frowning.  “But things feel _imminent,_ and these tachyon counts are ridiculous, so I wouldn’t be surprised if something –“

Down within the bowels of STAR Labs, there was an ominous, echoing boom.

“-Apparently happened right now,” Cisco said, throwing himself into the swivel chair.  “Jarvis, pull up security cameras.  Barry, get the suit on.” 

“I’m going!”  Barry flashed over to the mannequin and sped his way through changing into the costume.  “I still can’t believe you’re calling our voice-activation system _Jarvis_.”

“Iron Man was a good movie,” Cisco said.  “And it’s not like I can call it Gideon.” 

“I will work on inventing Gideon,” Barry grumbled as he pulled his cowl on.  “After we take care of this time-traveling threat to building security, we can even put in a couple of research hours.” 

“If it’s another time wraith I will take a leaf out of Harry’s book and throw something,” grumbled Cisco. 

“I’ll take the repulsor,” Barry sighed, grabbing the wrist-mounted device off of its charging station before running off in the direction of the lower levels. 

The echoing sounds got louder as Barry descended, until he was standing outside the door of the Pipeline.  He pressed the ‘open’ button with a grimace and stepped inside. 

The air inside the Pipeline was awash with electricity, thick and heavy like a thunderstorm.  Barry paused at the entrance, then peered over the drop just in time to see a flash of yellow and red pass beneath him. 

“This isn’t good,” he said into his earpiece. 

“Is it seriously another time wraith?” Cisco sighed. 

“Nope,” said Barry as the blur passed beneath him again.  “But I wish it was.” 

“Come on – time wraiths are gross and creepy, you don’t mean that.” 

“If a time wraith is the alternative to the Reverse-Flash showing up to ruin our day, I can honestly say I would take it.” 

There was a beat of silence on the other end of the line.  “Okay, you win.  Eobard Thawne is definitely worse.  I guess the best thing to do would be to kick his ass and then find out what he wants?” 

“Probably,” Barry sighed with a tiny shake of his head.  Kick his ass, sure – the Reverse-Flash might not have had Zoom’s raw power, but he was sneaky, underhanded, and a hell of a lot smarter. 

Barry did seem to have one advantage on his side this time – the element of surprise.  Thawne hadn’t paused, or given any indication that he knew Barry was there.  He’d have to make that count. 

He watched the blur go through several more revolutions, timing them in his head, before streaking down the side of the Pipeline and slamming his nemesis into the wall. 

“What are you doing here, Thawne?” he huffed.  “What do you want this time?” 

“I want you to get off me, Allen!”  Eobard slammed his forearm into Barry’s stomach and shoved him away before bolting down the Pipeline. 

Barry pursued him and managed to knock him down after putting on a burst of speed that left his lungs burning.  “You always want something,” he gasped, pinning the other speedster to the floor.  “Spit it out!” 

“What could I possibly want, _Flash_?” Eobard spat.  “I spent fifteen years trying to get out of this century, so why exactly would I bother returning?” 

“Fifteen – Thawne, _what?”_   Barry said, his clenched fists momentarily going slack. 

“It is the 2010s, correct?” Thawne said, allowing the red to fade from his eyes.  “The architecture, the businesses, your speed – all familiar, so it’s been what – three years?  Four?” 

“I saw you a couple of months ago.”  Barry rested one fist on Thawne’s shoulder. 

“That means nothing for us,” Thawne said, narrowing his eyes.  “What _year is it?_ ” 

“It’s 2016,” Barry blurted out, surprised by the sudden venom.  He resisted the urge to clap his hand to his forehead.  _You didn’t need to tell him the year!_

Thawne dropped his head to the Pipeline floor.  “Is Cisco upstairs?  Caitlin?” 

“Cisco’s here,” Barry said, eyeing Thawne with suspicion.  “And he’s capable of a lot more than you remember, so don’t even think about trying anything.” 

“All I care about is whether he’s capable of sending me back to the twenty-third century,” Thawne said.  “I have no interest in being here, so _send me home_.  You did it before, now do it again.” 

Barry hesitated.  “You make any sudden moves, make me even _think_ that you’ll hurt – anyone, and you’re going straight in a cell.” 

“Fine,” Thawne said dismissively, and the hair on the back of Barry’s neck rose – this wasn’t right, it was too easy. 

“One thing first,” Barry said, a queasy suspicion rising in his gut, and he snatched off his Reverse’s mask. 

Eobard barely moved, didn’t strike back, just glared up at him with baleful eyes.  “Well?” he demanded, the echoing reverberation gone from his voice.  “Are you quite finished?” 

Barry swallowed down the lump in his throat as he stared down at the face of Doctor Harrison Wells.  “Yeah,” he said quietly.  “I’m done."

* * *

Cisco glared at Eobard from his perch on the swivel chair.  “Okay, back up and start over, this time beginning with _why the hell are you here?”_

“If you had bothered listening to Barry’s summary, you would have gathered that ending up in this time period was _never my intention,_ ” Eobard growled. 

“Excuse me if I don’t believe you,” Cisco snapped, “seeing as you were able to whip blueprints for a working time machine out of your ass.  Aren’t you supposed to be some sort of evil supervillain Time Lord?” 

“Time _Master,_ ” Eobard corrected with a tiny twitch of his lips.  “But no, I’m not one of them.  Although I did teach some of them a thing or two.  I’m a chromodynamics professor, in my own time.” 

Barry fought the impulse to gape incredulously, but it was a near thing.  Now, of all times, Thawne was actually volunteering personal information? 

Cisco shook his head.  “No way.  I know your angle, and there is no way in hell that I am calling you Professor Thawne.” 

Eobard’s smile widened.  “Would you truly prefer to continue calling me Dr. Wells, Cisco?  I’d have thought you’d find it distasteful.” 

Cisco pursed his lips thoughtfully.  “Well I do.  Ooh – I’ve got it!”  He snapped his fingers.  “I’ll call you Harribard!” 

Eobard’s smug smile vanished.  “Don’t you dare.” 

“What are you gonna do about it?” Cisco said, lifting his chin.  “You can’t up and shove a hand through my chest this time, you just said that you need us-”

“Okay!”  Barry clamped a hand on Cisco’s shoulder and dragged him away from Eobard, whose eyes were narrowed in a way that Barry did not like _at all._ “We’re going over here!  To confer,” he said, looking back at Eobard.  “Just – don’t break anything?  We’ll be back!” 

Barry steered Cisco into one of the side offices and shut the glass door behind them before removing his hand from his friend’s shoulder.  “Cisco, what are you doing?” 

“Trying to get some answers!  Like, for starters,” Cisco hissed, lowering his voice, “why is this guy still alive?  You said that in your timeline he was dead _and_ de-Wellsified.” 

Barry sighed.  “We must have missed a spot during the clean-up.  There hasn’t been nearly enough talk about the singularity – it’s almost like it didn’t happen in this timeline.  And Eddie and Ronnie are both alive.” 

Cisco frowned and closed his eyes, grabbing Barry’s wrist before his expression went slack.  Barry watched the rapid movement of Cisco’s eyes behind his eyelids and couldn’t quite suppress a tiny shiver – his Cisco hadn’t had control like this, hadn’t had the time to practice, and he was still getting used to what his friend was capable of now. 

“Huh,” Cisco said after a long few seconds.  He opened his eyes and released Barry’s wrist, his expression mildly disgusted.  “I honestly didn’t think the debacle with Zoom could have been any worse, but there we are, I guess.  Jax seemed cool, but things would have worked out better if you’d had Ronnie on your side like we did.” 

The familiar guilt and self-recrimination tugged at Barry’s gut, and he fought to keep his fingers from twitching as he pushed it down.  “I know.  Let’s take this back to Eobard,” he said, rubbing the back of his neck when Cisco gave him a knowing look.  “To fix the timeline, I had to let my mother die.  Let Thawne kill her, again.  So he still lost his powers, came here, did what he did.” 

“Can confirm,” Cisco said.  “He didn’t kill me in this timeline, though, so at least there’s that.” 

“But you still remember it?” Barry asked, interested enough to briefly push aside his own lingering anxiety and frustration in favor of a distraction. 

“It’s hard to go back far enough – that was, like, five divergent timelines ago,” Cisco said.  “I can, but luckily it’s tough to do.  That’s one recurrent dream I would really rather not deal with.” 

But Cisco _had_ struggled with recurrent dreams, Barry remembered – he and Caitlin had helped with those nightmares, used the information they contained to unmask Dr. Wells.  “So when Thawne played his endgame – if not a big bad black hole, what happened?” Barry asked, pushing aside the reminder that this was not his original timeline, or his original friend. 

Cisco’s eyes widened.  “We closed it.  Firestorm and I closed the black hole, instead of stopping Thawne.  Which means-”

“-He escaped,” Barry sighed.  “He went back to his own time after all, didn’t he?” 

“It’s the only possibility that makes sense,” Cisco said. 

Barry rubbed his eyebrows.  “I can’t believe – that’s a huge thing to miss.  My nemesis riding off into the sunset?  Cisco, I was so busy worrying about the timeframe with Zoom and everything that could have gone wrong that I didn’t even think to ask you about the Reverse-Flash.” 

Cisco shook his head.  “It’s on both of us.  I’m the eyes and ears, you’re the feet, remember?  You’re the one who fixes the timelines, but I’m the one who sees the way they all layer over each other.” 

Barry’s lips quirked upward, and he couldn’t quite resist the urge to lighten the mood.  “So you’re saying that time has layers.  Like an onion.” 

“You just made a Shrek joke,” Cisco said with a look of mock-horror.  “In the Year of our Lord 2016.  But yes – if it makes you feel better, the fabric of spacetime is like a wibbly-wobbly, timey-wimey onion.  Complete with layers.” 

“I feel better already,” Barry said, opening the office door and motioning for Cisco to follow him.  “Now let’s go wrangle a speedster.” 

Barry stepped back into the Cortex to face Eobard.  “We’ve compared notes and your story checks out,” he said, doing his best to ignore the other speedster’s smirk.  “Now how do you expect us to be able to help?”  _And why should we?_ he thought but didn’t say. 

“It should be simple enough, really,” Eobard said.  “All I need from you is a little more speed.” 

 _That rhymed,_ Barry thought, because sue him, he was tired and had woken up early for this.  “Like I haven’t heard that one before,” he said.  “That’s what you always want.” 

“Then why are you surprised?” Eobard said with that smug smile fixed on his face.  “You almost seem disappointed, Barry.  I should think it’s been long enough since we saw each other that the novelty would be fresh.”

Barry snorted.  “That’s a good one.  Past you said the same thing to me a month or two ago, and speed was literally the only thing that Zoom cared about, so get in line.” 

That got a reaction – Eobard tilted his head.  “Zoom.  I’m not familiar with that name.” 

“Lucky you, then,” Cisco said.  “He was a nasty speed-freak from an alternate Earth.  Kicked all our asses, then tried to blow up the multiverse, at least in Barry’s timeline.  He still managed to break your spine in this one, though,” he said to Barry apologetically. 

“Excuse me,” Eobard said icily, turning to Barry.  “You let him _break your spine?_ ” 

Barry’s jaw dropped.  “Are you out of your mind?  You think I just rolled over and let a psychotic speedster beat me senseless, for fun?  Zoom was faster than you ever were, and eventually I still managed to beat him.” 

“That’s all well and good,” said Eobard, his eyes narrowing, and in the blink of an eye the yellow-suited speedster was on his feet.  “But apparently I overestimated your capabilities, _Flash,_ since in your short tenure as a superhero you’ve apparently managed to wreck your own timeline so thoroughly as to need Vibe’s help to undo the damage.” 

“Not cool, Thawne,” Cisco said, holding out tentative hands between Barry and Eobard – as if he could actually stop them both from going for each other, if they decided to.  Barry took a deep breath and forced himself not to react, to stay still and not stir an inch in the face of the obvious threat. 

Luckily he’d had time to learn how to act disaffected.  “That’s true,” he said slowly, as if Thawne had managed to figure out something that Barry hadn’t already thought of himself.  “But at least I’ve never managed to land myself a time period that, for some reason, I can’t seem to leave behind.” 

Thawne went very still and stared at Barry with an expression that could only be described as _venomous._ “Regardless of your feelings about me,” he said through gritted teeth, “the matter at hand should be straightforward enough for you to carry out your responsibility to the timeline and the people of this city and _send me home.”_

Barry frowned.  Playing off his emotions was classic Eobard, but mentioning his sense of responsibility, his motivation for helping people, in a way that wasn’t a joke or a cutting remark?  It wasn’t like him at all. 

Eobard was either desperate, or he was hiding something.  With the way the morning was going so far, probably both. 

“You said you didn’t choose to come here voluntarily,” he began slowly.  “I’m not sure I believe that.  But if that’s true, you need to tell us what happened that forced you to come back.”  Eobard’s eyes narrowed, and Barry continued, “If we send you back to your time, what’s to stop you from coming back here again whenever you want, or ending up here again by accident?” 

“There are contingencies that I can prepare to prevent a recurrence,” Eobard said with icy calm, “using the technology and equipment that I have _in my own time._ ” 

Cisco shook his head.  “Not good enough.  We want contingencies of our own, Harribard.  You are not a welcome morning surprise.” 

“And we don’t trust you,” Barry added, as if it needed to be said. 

Eobard looked between the two of them, his mouth flattening into a thin, hard line.  “So that’s it, then.  Until I tell you why I’m trapped here, you won’t let me leave.” 

Barry stared back at him.  “If that’s what we have to do, then yes.” 

For a split second, Eobard looked stunned.  Then he smiled.  “I’m afraid you’ll be putting up with me for quite some time, then.” 

There was a blur of red lightning, and Eobard was gone from the Cortex. 

“It’s a good thing I let Hartley put in those proximity alarms,” Cisco said, letting out a shaky breath and crossing over to the control panel.  “And a good thing you tested them to make sure they were speedster-proof.  He won’t be sneaking up on us, at least.” 

“But he’s just going to be here, lurking around the lab?” Barry said, his stomach twisting. 

“That’s what he said he’d do,” said Cisco.  “And I don’t think he was lying.” 

Barry took a deep breath and slowly exhaled.  _What have we done now?_

* * *

“This is a disaster,” Caitlin told them both the next morning.                                                       

Barry and Cisco glanced at each other.  “True,” Cisco said.  “But to be fair we did the best we could with what we had available at the time?” 

Caitlin sighed.  “I’m not saying that refusing to help him was a bad call, but have you considered how much more dangerous it is to have him running around STAR Labs?  No pun intended.” 

Barry grimaced.  “I realize that the lab’s security is really not the best-”

“-Traitor,” Cisco grumbled. 

“-but what’s the alternative, stick him in the Pipeline?  Assuming I was able to subdue him without hurting anyone or destroying anything, and that’s a big maybe, I’m not sure one of those cells would actually hold him.  We’d have to rig up some sort of containment field at the least.” 

“He wasn’t able to escape the Pipeline the last time we held him there,” Caitlin pointed out. 

“Technically he didn’t try to escape the Pipeline,” Cisco said, frowning thoughtfully.  “Barry can run through walls, so I’m sure Harribard could have gotten out of there if we hadn’t been willing to do what he wanted.  He helped design the thing – I’m sure he left himself a back door.” 

That was – alarming, and probably true now that Barry thought about it.  He rubbed the back of his neck.  “So then what do we do with him?” 

“An excellent question,” said Eobard cheerfully from the doorway of the Cortex.  Cisco jumped about a foot and let out a startled squeak.  “Personally, I recommend returning me to my proper era and putting an end to this farce, but.”  He shrugged.  “I doubt that option is on the table.  Lovely to see you again, Dr. Snow.  I hear you’ve been trying to talk some sense into your friends.” 

“I was just finishing with that,” Caitlin said firmly, and Eobard lifted an amused eyebrow.  “Why do you look like Dr. Wells?  The last time we saw you there was a cleft in your chin.” 

“Oh, so you’ve met my past self?” Eobard said with a smile that didn’t reach his eyes.  “I remember my first trip to 2016.  It was quite the informative sojourn.” 

“Apparently not informative enough,” Cisco quipped.  “You got stuck in 2016 that time too.” 

Eobard’s smile turned nasty.  “You should reconfigure your proximity sensors, Cisco.  The minimum velocity threshold was a clever addition, but no component of the algorithm would detect me should I choose to _walk_ into a room.”  He returned his attention to Caitlin.  “You’re right, though.  I still look like Harrison Wells.  For all intents and purposes, in this time, I _am_ Harrison Wells.  And since Harrison Wells has gone mysteriously missing – and I fully intend to keep it that way – you are leaving me with little choice but to enjoy the pleasure of your company.” 

“Joy,” Cisco muttered.  Louder, he said “And how does this plan of yours help you get home sooner?  At this rate we’re just going in circles.  You would be better off if you just told us what we needed to know.” 

The speedster shrugged nonchalantly.  “Are you suggesting that I be helpful?” he said.  “Surely all of you know me better than that by now.” 


	2. Olive Branch

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for the feedback on Chapter 1! I'm glad people seem to be enjoying this fic so far. Here's the next section! A big thanks to townwithoutheart for beta-reading this.

Barry walked into the Cortex and paused when he saw Eobard sitting in the swivel chair at the center console, digging into what looked like a container of Chinese food.

It wasn’t that he was surprised to see Eobard in the Cortex.  The speedster tended to confine himself to the lower levels, clearly preferring the solitude, but he would sometimes hover around the periphery of the Cortex when Barry, Cisco, and Caitlin were all in a room together.  The better to bother them, Barry supposed, or catch them in a moment of weakness. 

No, what was surprising was that Eobard was wearing a suit.  A _nice_ suit – the sort of black, three-piece number that Dr. Wells tended to wear to formal events, like speeches and press conferences. 

Barry shook himself.  This man may once have been Barry’s idol in science, but Dr. Wells was dead, had been dead since Barry was eleven.  “Where did you get the suit?” he asked Eobard.  “Did you bring a garment bag from the future?” 

Eobard barked out a short, sharp laugh, turning the chair until he was facing Barry.  “And why would this not simply be a stolen suit?” he said, gesturing to himself with the chopsticks.  “Currency from my time would hardly be considered legal tender at a twenty-first century department store, after all.  And if I recall correctly, you yourself have indulged in speed-enhanced shopping sprees on occasion.” 

Barry frowned.  “That was because I ran to a crime scene and forgot my civilian clothes.” 

“Does my yellow suit look like comfortable casual daywear to you, Barry?” Eobard countered.  “You may be able to pass yours off as hero garb, but even you can’t keep leather tripolymer clean enough for daily wear.” 

“Yeah, Cisco complains whenever I get it messy,” Barry said, then paused when he realized that, somewhere within the layers of critique and mild condescension, Eobard had actually told a _joke._   “You didn’t steal that suit,” he continued, off-balance.  “Suits don’t fit right off the rack – you have to have them tailored, and that one actually fits you properly.” 

Eobard stared at Barry with measuring blue eyes.  “An excellent observation, Mr. Allen,” he said slowly, placing the container of Chinese food on top of Cisco’s workstation.  “As a matter of fact, I left this suit and several other wardrobe changes at a small storage unit that I purchased – under a false name, of course - when I departed for my own time.  Taking a quick jaunt to the outskirts of Central was no issue.” 

Barry blinked; of course Eobard would have left things behind when he went back to the 2100s.  His house had probably been auctioned, since no one was keeping up with the property taxes, but it didn’t mean he hadn’t stored things in other places.  “I didn’t realize you’d left the lab,” he said.  “I could have gotten things if you needed them.” 

There it was again – that calculating stare, interested but for once devoid of anger.  “And miss the opportunity to stretch my legs?” Eobard said.  “I don’t think so.  I debated gracing Big Belly Burger with my presence, but a dead man can hardly walk into a restaurant and order a double.  Energy bars do get old after a while.  It’s a shame they don’t deliver,” he added, looking up at the ceiling tiles. 

“I’m not bringing you a Big Belly Burger,” Barry had said to him, and then left, because it was the principle of the matter – superheroes didn’t just go around bringing their villains greasy junk food.  But when Cisco and Caitlin had both requested that he pick up an order later that afternoon, Barry had caved.  Eobard would be an ass about it, he knew, but one of them had to be the bigger person. 

Caitlin’s eyebrows rose when he saw Barry set aside the extra burgers and fries, but neither she nor Cisco made any comment.  If Eobard didn’t show up – and the odds were fairly even at this point as to whether or not their former mentor would avoid them – then Barry could always eat the extra food himself.  It wouldn’t exactly be a hardship. 

But apparently the smell of his favorite barbaric-past cuisine was too much for Eobard to resist.  Within minutes, the speedster had zoomed into the room in a blur of red lightning, snatching Cisco’s bag of food directly out of his hands. 

Cisco shrieked and launched himself backward, almost toppling out of his swivel chair.  “What the hell, Harribard?” he said in indignation once he seemed to realize that he wasn’t about to be skewered through the chest.  “Give that back!” 

“It’s considered impolite to deprive your guests of food, no matter the time period,” Eobard said nonchalantly, plucking a French fry from the bag.  “I would have thought that you, at least, would have better manners.” 

“Ha, funny,” said Cisco, glaring.  “First of all, you’re not our guest, you’re our prisoner.  And second,” he added when Eobard failed to look impressed, “for reasons utterly unfathomable to me, Barry brought you an order of your own.” 

“What?” Eobard said, and for a split second that only Barry could notice, he looked – thrown.  Then his features rearranged themselves into a more impassive expression.  “I assume the bag contains my usual, then?” 

“Two doubles, the works – minus the cheese and the bacon,” Barry said without really thinking about it.  “Since apparently it’s sacrilege to eat dairy or pork at the same time as your beef in the future.” 

“We don’t have beef in the future,” Eobard said, returning Cisco’s order to the table before picking up his own.  He unwrapped the first burger slowly, his eyes still fixed on Barry and his expression unreadable.  “Cattle are notoriously inefficient at converting vegetable matter into protein.  Chicken, pork, and fish are the options we have in my time.” 

“Beats me why you’d want to go back, then,” Cisco said, breaking the odd tension of the moment.  Barry looked away from Eobard, who was now pretending to check the amount of mayonnaise on his own burger to avoid making eye contact with anyone. 

They ate in relatively stilted silence until Cisco balled up his wrapper and threw it into the trash can.  “Nothing but net,” he said, ignoring Eobard’s snort of derision.  “Let’s see you do better than that next time we have a game night, Barry.” 

“Cisco,” Caitlin said gently when Barry stared at him in confusion.  “Wrong Barry.” 

“What – oh.  Crap, Barry, I’m sorry,” said Cisco, his brow furrowing.  “I was thinking about the singularity and I got my timeframes switched around.” 

“It’s fine,” Barry said.  “It happens, right?” 

“Right,” said Cisco softly. 

There was an awkward silence.  “Well,” Eobard said before inhaling the rest of his second burger.  “This has been delightful, but I’m going down to the Pipeline.  If you need anything, I’ll be there running.” 

He vanished as quickly as he’d arrived, and then it was just Barry looking back at his best friends. 

“We didn’t have game nights in my timeline,” Barry said quietly, staring at the floor.  “We had movie nights sometimes, before the singularity.  Whenever I had to run out and take care of a petty crime, my Cisco and Caitlin would pause the movie and take turns refilling the popcorn.  But after the singularity hit – I pushed you out.  I pushed everyone out,” he said, rubbing the back of his neck.  “Maybe a game night or two would have kept everything from falling apart.” 

Caitlin and Cisco glanced at each other before Caitlin placed a hand on Barry’s arm.  “We’ll get there eventually,” she said.  “After things with Eobard wind down and he goes back to his time, we can get the gang together and play, have a few drinks.  Maybe try some new card games.  Eddie still has no idea how to play Crazy Eights.” 

“I’m pretty sure you’re the only one who knows how to play Crazy Eights, Caitlin.  Well, you and Ronnie,” Cisco amended.  “But dude,” he said, clapping Barry on the shoulder in a bracing kind of way, “I think you’ll love Cards Against Humanity, if you’ve never played it.  The old you was killer at it, the last time we played you made the most bizarre joke about Marty McFly and now that almost seems like a weird coincidence-”

Cisco continued talking but Barry tuned out the rest, suddenly feeling sick.  _The old you._ Suddenly his presence in the new timeline felt like the coma all over again – except this time he hadn’t even come back to his own life, he’d come back to someone else’s.  He’d scraped out a place by erasing himself, some other version, and except for times like these everyone around him acted as if nothing had changed –

“Barry,” Caitlin said, squeezing his forearm, and with a jolt Barry broke out of his reverie to find both her and Cisco staring at him in concern. 

“Dude, you’re not some _other Barry_ ,” Cisco said.  “You are Barry, the real Barry.  That wasn’t what I meant.” 

“I know it wasn’t,” Barry said, feeling as if his chest was being squeezed.  “I just – I’ll be back in a bit, okay?  I’m going for a run.” 

“In civilian clothing?”  Caitlin looked at him worriedly. 

“I won’t run on water or do anything crazy,” Barry said, standing up.  “But I really need some air.” 

He bolted before his friends could say any more, enveloping himself in the Speed Force and blasting out of STAR Labs. 

For once Eobard had the right idea, as weird as that was, Barry decided.  When he was running, there was nothing that could catch him, except another speedster.  Or his past. 

The timestream skittered on the edges of his perception – he was going faster than he’d realized, too fast - but instead of diving into that alluring blue, he wrenched himself away and skidded to a stop, his sneakers smoking. 

He’d caused enough damage to break anything else today. 

* * *

The sound of quiet footsteps in the Cortex jolted Barry out of his morning reverie.  “How many alternate timelines have you run through?” Eobard asked without preamble.  

Barry looked up at the other speedster.  “You didn’t go down to the Pipeline yesterday, did you?  You were listening.”  Eobard inclined his head briefly, and Barry sighed.  “I shouldn’t be surprised, but seriously.  I realize you’re a chronic eavesdropper, but why did you decide that particular conversation was any of your business?”  

Eobard pulled out a swivel chair from one of the workstations and dropped into it, wheeling gently across the floor before coming to a stop.  “This may be the pot calling the kettle black, but I have reason to be concerned about your mental health.”

Barry stared.  Had he fallen into an alternate reality again?  

“You think I’m being funny,” Eobard said, frowning.  “But I’m serious.  How many times has your timeline diverged?”  

“Um - I’m not sure?  Obviously it changed once when I was eleven, but even though it sucked I never knew any different,” said Barry defensively.  At least he hadn’t known when he’d been growing up - knowing what he knew now about paradoxes and how they rippled through time and space, he was just glad he hadn’t been chained to the new timelines he’d created and forced to learn the hard way.

“I take your point, but I’m referring to timelines you’ve changed yourself,” said Eobard, ignoring the barb.  Somehow, Barry found the lack of a return insult more concerning than the fact that Eobard was claiming to look out for his well-being in the first place.  

 He wasn’t sure why, but something about the way Eobard was looking at him actually prompted honesty.  “Since I became the Flash… five times,” Barry said, thinking back.  “The first time I ran back just a day and stopped a tidal wave from destroying Central City.  Next time was just by a few hours, but I saved the city from a guy named Vandal Savage.  Then another time to create a time remnant-”

Eobard held up a hand.  “You created a time remnant?  Barry, that is beyond reckless-”

“- because time wraiths are scary and eat inexperienced time-travelers, I know, you told me,” Barry said, then paused - had this Eobard told this timeline’s original Barry about the time wraiths or had he learned some other way?  “But it was to stop Zoom.  There needed to be two of me, and I needed to get the time wraiths’ attention.”  

Eobard slowly lowered his hand, a slow smile spreading across his face.  “You’re saying you fed Zoom to the time wraiths.”  

Barry blinked.  “Yes?”  

“That’s unorthodox, but I’ll admit I’m impressed.  Carry on.”  

“Um… okay.  And after that happened, I ran back to the night my mom died and stopped you from killing her, but the future I returned to was – not one I could live with.  So I ran back again, stopped myself from stopping you, undid the damage – and now I’m here.”  

Eobard nodded slowly.  “That’s a lot of alternate realities to swallow.  And I imagine the changes have continued to compound?”  

Barry glared at him.

“They have a way of doing that,” Eobard said, ignoring Barry’s hostile expression and continuing in an odd tone that was similar to the ‘mentor voice’ Barry remembered from his time with Dr. Wells, but not exactly the same.  “You can never completely fix the past.  Bigger alterations tend to be easier to fix - the ripple effect can be undone at the source.  You and Cisco have done well repairing the damage you’ve caused to the timestream.  But continuing like this will only cause more damage to yourself.”  

Barry raised an eyebrow.  “What do you mean?”  

“The disaffectedness, the detachment from your current reality.”  Eobard settled back in the swivel chair before tilting his head to look Barry directly in the eye.  “You think about it often, don’t you?  About running back and trying to recover what you’ve lost, changing things again, rolling the dice for a different outcome.”  

Barry met his old enemy’s gaze evenly.  “Is that what happened to you?  After you couldn’t leave the year 2000?”  

“It was best for all involved that I was incapable of using my powers at the time.”  Eobard’s stare was somber.  “It’s a delusion almost unique to those who meddle with time - the temptation to be a gatekeeper takes training and discipline to overcome.”  His lips briefly quirked upward.  “I have never been the most trained or disciplined person.”  

Barry couldn’t believe he was doing it, but he chuckled.  “Did you just admit to having a personal flaw?  You?”  

There was a flicker of mirth in Eobard’s expression.  “Everyone has good days.”  Then he broke eye contact, and the brief moment of levity faded.  “I am going to offer you some unwelcome advice.  Focus on what you have in this timeline.  Try to put the others behind you.  It’ll take time and effort, but for the sake of the people around you, it has to be done.”  

Barry nodded.  “I know.”  If he was being honest with himself, he had known.  Hearing it from his nemesis - rival - something? - who had made his same mistakes, and many more besides, was jarring, but Eobard did have a way of putting things in perspective.  “And that’s going to be easier said than done.  But thanks, Doctor.”  

Eobard pushed off and glided across the Cortex floor until he reached the desk at the far end of the room.  “If we’re returning to formal titles, Mr. Allen, the correct one for me is ‘Professor.’”  

In spite of everything, Barry smiled.  “In your dreams, Thawne.”

* * *

Apparently Barry wasn’t the only one that Eobard liked to lecture.  He’d walked into the Cortex the following morning and found the speedster at the whiteboard, mapping out a complicated series of equations for a cautiously interested Cisco.  It had been something to see the two of them not at each other’s throats, much less having a civil conversation. 

“So let’s get this straight,” Cisco said, not having noticed Barry’s careful approach.  “You can travel into the future without affecting it, but future timelines are also constantly in flux?  How is that even possible?” 

“One of the great paradoxes of chronodynamics,” Eobard said.  “One that the Time Masters have been trying to explain away since the body was first founded.  Should they ever succeed in coming up with a workable theory, I doubt the people of my time will ever hear the end of it.” 

“It must be something to do with relativity,” Cisco said, leaning back in his chair.  “Every point in time, if you assume linearity, is either a past or a future for any other point, so unless there’s some sort of true north for the timestream, there shouldn’t be any difference between ‘past’ and ‘future’ in terms of the way time behaves.  By that logic you could travel to the past and eat lunch with Benjamin Franklin and nothing would change in the present.” 

“Except we all know that’s not true.”  Eobard shook his head.  “You’re getting into temporal ethics now.  Travel to the past should, in an ideal world, be done strictly for observational purposes.  As has been seen the hard way, it is all too easy to get swept up by the changes and deposited in an alternate version of your own present.”  

“Or to inadvertently affect yourself in the process,” Barry interjected, unwilling to let the opportunity to needle Eobard pass by.  

Cisco turned around in his seat.  “Oh, hey Barry!  So I know this guy is an absolute disaster waiting to happen, but you would not _believe_ how much he knows about time travel.  I’ll give it to you,” he said, gesturing to Eobard.  “You may be a dick, but you’re a well-traveled dick.” 

Barry snorted, and for a brief, bizarre second Eobard shot him a conspiratorial glance before returning his attention to Cisco, who had just noticed the double entendre and was turning several interesting colors.  “That is not what I meant at all,” the engineer stammered.  “That came out entirely wrong, please don’t kill me.” 

“Let’s continue our discussion,” Eobard said, turning back to the whiteboard with an almost-invisible smile tugging at the corner of his mouth that Barry only saw because he’d been looking for it. 

“I don’t understand,” said Cisco after another half-hour of brain-bending time travel theorems.  He pulled Barry out of the Cortex and into Caitlin’s office, where she was waiting with coffee.  “He’s being too-”

“-Levelheaded?”  Caitlin suggested.  “He hasn’t so much as snapped at any of us since the first day he was stuck here.” 

“Yeah, it’s weird for sure, but I was going to say that he’s actually acting _nice,_ ” Cisco said with a frown.  “Seriously, nothing gets a rise out of this guy.  Yesterday night I stole one of his French fries right in front of his face and he didn’t lift a murder hand or anything.  The death glare took a year off my life, but he didn’t do anything else.” 

“He knows he can’t hurt any of us if we’re going to do what he wants,” Caitlin pointed out.  “Maybe he’s just trying to curry favor, waiting for the right moment.” 

Barry shook his head.  “No.  That can’t be it.  Eobard Thawne doesn’t try to curry favor or ask permission.  He goes after what he wants and gets results no matter the cost.  In my original timeline he kidnapped Eddie and used my mom’s murder as leverage.  If he’s being nice, he’s got another motive.” 


	3. Destructive Interference

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Here is Part 3! Thank you to everyone who read and left kudos and comments - I'll be replying to comments in the morning, but I wanted to get this section posted before I went to sleep. 
> 
> Again, huge thanks go out to townwithoutheart for betaing this section. I hope you enjoy reading it!

Given the situation, Barry thought it was relatively forgivable that he’d forgotten about Harry  and Jesse Wells’ plans to come through the portal on Friday and spend a day or two vacationing on Earth-1.  Harry couldn’t move around Earth-1 any more than Eobard could - he was the doppelganger of a dead murderer, after all - but Jesse could visit her Earth-1 friends and spend time with Team Flash.  Barry had heard from Iris that Wally had been looking forward to Jesse’s visit ever since Harry had let the possibility slip; he’d bet money on the younger man finally summoning up the nerve to ask her out, and he’d bet a few additional dollars that she’d say yes.  

And Barry was hardly going to deny that it was nice seeing Harry again.  Abrasive and sarcastic he may be, but at least Barry could trust his intentions.  And who would understand the growing pains of a displaced time-traveler better than an interloper from another dimension?  

After dodging Eobard’s continued probing questions since their conversation the previous morning, it was a relief to be able to sit down with someone he trusted and tell them everything.  “It isn’t anyone’s fault,” Barry said, sighing as the story - the time travel, the stuff with Eobard and his friends, all of it - drew to a close.  “But it’s hard, not having anyone around who understands it - or at least anyone around that I can trust,” he amended, remembering the way Eobard had tried to draw him into talking about the past.  

Harry nodded slowly.  “Coming from another dimension isn’t quite the same as an alternate timeline, but I take your point.  You realize there is nothing I can do that will help, correct?”  

“Listening helps,” Barry said, swallowing around the lump in his throat.  “Everyone treats me like I’m the same Barry they remember - and except for some different memories, I pretty much am.  But every now and again I feel like I’m my own doppelganger, living a life that isn’t really mine.”  

Harry grimaced.  “A situation not unlike my own.  You plan to acclimate yourself to this new timeline you’ve created?”  

Barry shrugged helplessly.  “That’s all I can do, unless I go back and try to change things again, but I don’t think that would help.  I’d still remember what I’d done.”

“And giving yourself selective amnesia would undoubtedly be bad for your health,” Harry finished with a wry smile.  “Unfortunately, I’m going to have to agree with Thawne.  Waiting and acclimating seems to be the best strategy.”  

“I’ve often been told that my advice, when offered, tends to be sound,” said another, almost-identical voice from the door to the Cortex.  Barry’s stomach sank as he turned around to see Eobard, dressed in his usual immaculate suit, with his usual smug smile.  

And then Eobard noticed Harry.  

Speedsters, at least in Barry’s limited experience, were creatures of perpetual motion.   It was difficult to confine a speedster, impossible to keep them down for long, and if you knew what to look for, it was easy to tell them apart from regular humans.  Barry himself was prone to fidgeting. “Jay” had tended to pace around the Cortex even without his speed, and Trajectory had spoken quickly, the hyperkinetic energy inside her forcing its way out in short sentences and choppy words.  The real Jay Garrick hadn’t hung around for long after they’d freed him from Zoom; he’d been off like a shot as soon as he was able, barely pausing for long enough to say goodbye.  

Eobard did none of things.  When Eobard noticed Harry Wells standing near Barry at the other end of the room, he went perfectly still.  

Beside him, Barry saw Harry’s shoulders tense.  It was a good thing that he hadn’t brought his pulse rifle; between Harry’s twitchy trigger finger and Eobard’s scorn for weaponry of any kind, things would have gotten much uglier, much faster.  

As it was, things weren’t good.  Eobard still wasn’t moving; Barry felt the tension in the room, thick and heavy like summer humidity, and knew that he had to defuse this situation, had to do it right.  

“As the only person who knows you both, I suppose it falls to me to make the introduction,” Barry said, deliberately drawing on what he could mimic of Eobard’s odd syntax, his carefully detached cadence.  “Eobard, this is Dr. Harrison Wells, from Earth-2.  Dr. Wells, this is Eobard Thawne - the Reverse-Flash.”  

The brief, pleased gleam he saw in Eobard’s eyes was enough to tell Barry that the other speedster had noticed.  “I would say that it’s a pleasure to meet you,” he said, some of the aggression bleeding out of his stance, “but I prefer to tell my lies by omission.”  

“An interesting philosophy,” Harry replied with a sideways smile.  “I find that actions tend to speak louder than words, so you’ll excuse me for not shaking your hand.”  

Eobard smiled faintly, the expression razor-sharp.  “A wise course of action indeed.”  

With the immediate threat of murder gone from the air, Barry took a heartbeat to study the two men facing each other.  It was easy to contrast the two of them - Harry looked more scattered, still intimidating with that intense focus but altogether more approachable, once you knew him.  Eobard was more measured in his stance, more deliberate in a way that was almost leonine, and the same factors that made him exude danger had also come together to make him one of the most powerful and charismatic scientists in research.  

Barry had always considered himself hard to impress, but the Harrison Wells of his childhood had done it with astonishing ease.  

Sometimes, if Barry forgot himself, Eobard could still impress him.  

“You know,” Harry said conversationally, “Barry filled me on your situation.  How you’ve somehow ended up stuck here,” he added, looking at Eobard over the rims of his glasses, “and you won’t tell them how or why.  It must be something that, after all you’ve put these people through, they would still rather suffer through your presence than yield or help you in any way.” 

Eobard’s eyes narrowed.  “Their unwillingness to cooperate won’t stop me forever.  I can get my own help.” 

“If you could,” Harry said, “then why haven’t you?” 

Eobard’s lip curled, and to his astonishment Barry saw the faintest tinge of red cross the other speedster’s cheeks. 

Then he fled the room in a blur of red lightning. 

 Harry took a deep breath and let it out slowly.  “I suppose it’s to be expected, that sort of reaction,” he bit out.  “It can’t be easy, coming face-to-face with the doppelganger of a man you murdered.”  

“Not as hard as coming face-to-face with the man who killed your doppelganger,” Barry countered, looking at Harry levelly.  “Are you okay?”  

“I’ve met Thawne before, remember?  A younger version of him, but him regardless.  I’m fine,” Harry replied curtly.  “Or at least as fine as I can be, with another murderous speedster loose in the same city as my daughter.  How long has Thawne been here?  I thought he was from the future.”  

“He is,” Barry said.  “But he says he’s stuck here.  And it’s not the first time he’s ended up stranded in the twenty-first century.” 

“Interesting,” Harry said.  “Has he told you why this keeps happening?” 

“He won’t say,” Barry said.  “He just wants us to take him at his word and send him back to his time, but we aren’t going to.  This is the third time he’s ended up stuck, and we need to find out why so we can keep him from coming back.” 

Harry nodded slowly.  “Not returning to 2016 seems like it would be in Thawne’s best interests as well as yours.  Maybe he doesn’t know why he keeps ending up here.” 

Barry thought back to when Eobard had first shown up in the lab, demanded their help, and the flicker of shock that had passed across his face when they’d refused.  “I think he does know,” Barry said slowly.  “He’s been refusing to tell us anything, but he hasn’t put in any time researching or trying to find a solution.  He’s just been hanging around the lab, wearing us down or buttering us up until we agree to let him go, whichever works.” 

“Even though you said you weren’t going to help him?”  Barry nodded, and Harry’s brows darkened.  “That’s strange.  I’m sure you’ve already figured this out, but there’s a reason he’s not talking.  He’s keeping secrets, and I suggest figuring out what they are.  By any means necessary if you have to.”

* * *

Harry and Jesse ended up just staying for the day instead of the short overnight they’d originally planned.  “Let us know when Thawne is gone and we can reschedule,” he’d told Barry firmly, and Barry hadn’t really been able to blame him for wanting to keep Jesse away from Eobard.  Barry may have been relatively sure that Eobard had put the majority of his senseless-homicide tendencies behind him during his fifteen-year stay in the past, but it was better to be safe than sorry when dealing with speedsters.  

Since their confrontation in the Cortex, Eobard had ignored the presence of the other Wells with an aloofness that bordered on comical.  He had avoided running into Harry for a little while, until Cisco pointed out that he was intentionally evading the Earth-2 visitors.  After that he’d made a deliberate effort to insinuate himself into their conversations, directing all his attention toward the STAR Labs team and looking visibly annoyed every time Harry Wells had so much as spoken to Barry.  

“Ironically, this visit has actually made me feel better about my doppelganger,” Harry had said wryly as he’d hugged Barry goodbye next to the portal in the STAR Labs basement.  “We are not the same person.  Never in my life have I ever been so transparently jealous.”  

Barry hadn’t blushed at the idea, but it had been a near thing.  

“You don’t think it’s true, do you?” he said to Cisco and Caitlin as they tidied up the lab that evening.  “Harry seemed pretty convinced, but I think Eobard just didn’t like having a doppelganger around.  He hates us.” 

Cisco frowned.  “You know, honestly, I’m not so sure that he does.  He hates the Flash, maybe, but he did outright tell us that he would miss us when he was about to go back to the year – hang on, is he from the 2190s?” Cisco said, stopping in the middle of the hallway.  “He said he was born in 2151, but how old is this guy?  Did he get aged up or aged down when he stole Harrison Wells’ body?”

“Can we focus, Cisco?” said Caitlin. 

“These are important questions!  But point taken,” Cisco said when Barry shot him a look.  “Honestly though – in two different timelines he admitted that he didn’t hate us.  He even said he’d enjoyed helping you with superhero stuff.” 

Barry frowned – he did remember that.  “Couldn’t he just have been messing with us?” 

“He could’ve, but to what end?” Cisco said.  “He’d already won – he was going home.  He didn’t need to pay us any empty compliments just so we’d fall over ourselves to help him.  Besides,” he continued with a smirk, “he spent the entire time that Barry and Harry were talking running laps in the Pipeline.  At first I thought he was just pissed off, but I could definitely read that as jealous.” 

Barry couldn’t believe he was seriously considering this idea, but - Eobard Thawne being jealous of his doppelganger?  That put a new spin on _everything._

But before he could say so, there was an alarm from the Cortex. 

Barry sped into the room and activated the monitor, which was showing a blipping image of a man that he’d never seen before.  “Guys, who is this?” 

“That?” Cisco said, throwing himself into the swivel chair.  “What are you – oh.  That’s Mirror Master.  Real name is Sam Scudder and he controls-”

“-mirrors,” Barry finished. 

“Not _just_ mirrors,” Cisco scolded.  “He can distort light, create optical illusions.  He’s dangerous – there are rumors that he’s gotten involved with the Rogues, but he never seems to stay with any operation for long.  More of a solo player, not afraid to kill.” 

“Right,” Barry said, taking a deep breath.  Another metahuman bad guy.  He had this. 

He stripped in the middle of the Cortex and changed into the Flash suit, taking advantage of the fact that he was moving too fast for the human eye to follow –

\- except that wasn’t true at all, he realized with dawning horror as he zipped up the front of the suit.  Eobard could follow a speedster’s movements just fine, since he was one himself – and Barry had been changing in front of him ever since he’d gotten his powers, without even realizing! 

He felt his face heating up and immediately pulled on his cowl, praying that Cisco and Caitlin wouldn’t notice that he was blushing. 

Mirror Master was wreaking havoc in Central City’s waterfront district, a bustling area crowded with small shops; evacuating civilians from the area was the perfect distraction to help Barry take his mind off the fact that he’d been giving his nemesis unintentional stripteases for the better part of a year.  By the time they were all clear of the scene, Barry had the worst of his blushing under control and was able to focus on getting his first (for him at least) look at Mirror Master. 

Sam Scudder looked like a stereotypical suave villain – long, dramatic trenchcoat, neatly groomed beard, and neatly-pressed clothes beneath the coat.  Granted, the green-and-orange checkered shirt was a bit on the unusual side, but Barry expected as much from a man who had been known to associate with Captain Cold. 

Of more concern were the shimmering, reflective spatial distortions hovering around the man’s hands.  Barry looked into one and saw, to his surprise, the deck of a tugboat anchored out in the middle of the harbor. 

“Flash,” said Scudder with a sneer.  “I was expecting you to show up, although I’m surprised you actually managed to arrive on time.  No matter – I’m prepared for you.  You see these mirrors of mine?” he said, nodding to the floating distortions.  “One wrong step, and you’ll be catapulted straight into my mirror dimension – and where you come out after that is solely a matter of luck.” 

“He’s telling the truth,” Cisco said in Barry’s earpiece.  “The mirror dimension is yikes.  We still have no idea what happens to things that get left in there.  I had you drop a tracer in there the second time we fought this guy, but it hasn’t picked up any sort of meaningful spatial coordinates.  We think it’s basically a pocket dimension-”

“Less science, more strategy!” said Barry as he dodged an oncoming distortion.  “Scudder said he was prepared, but he doesn’t have any kind of loot with him.  Why would he be expecting me if he wasn’t planning to commit a heist?” 

“Um…” Barry heard furious typing, then – “Shit.  There’s been an alarm triggered at one of the jewelry stores downtown.  I’d bet money it’s Lisa Snart.  Last I heard, she and Scudder were an item.” 

“Wha – okay, that would have been good to know,” said Barry, dodging another of Scudder’s mirrors, then retreating as two more distortions converged on him from either side.  “I can’t go after Lisa until I get Mirror Master off my back.  Any suggestions?” 

“Speed mirages have worked decently in the past,” said Cisco.  “Or you could just do that tornado trick-”

“No way – I’m not about to pull some sort of lethal force tactic on this guy.  He’s basically a regular human.”  _If an annoying one._

“Dude, it’s not lethal.  I mean, it’s unpleasant, but the vacuum vortex doesn’t kill people, it just sucks all the air away.”   

“Vacuum-”  Barry stopped in his tracks, his eyes widening.  This timeline’s version of him had applied his powers in a way that Barry hadn’t even known existed?  What else had he changed by taking his old self’s place? 

Out of the corner of his eye he saw a mirror distortion careening in his direction.  He broke into a run, but it was too late – the distortion swallowed him up, plunging him into the mirror dimension. 

The first thing Barry noticed was the silence, hollow and absolute – the only thing he could hear was the pounding of his own heart and the static of his comms.  The scenery was even more bizarre.  All around him were tumbling fractals, distorted visions of real-world surroundings inverted in various nauseating ways. 

Only one of the reflections was clear, a high-altitude view of the waterfront, and on a hunch Barry ran towards it. 

He burst out of the reflection and onto the roof of a high rise.  His first impression was relief – a few more minutes among the tumbling mirrors and it would have been hard to see straight – followed immediately by _oh god this is a tall building._ He skidded to a stop so quickly that he fell over, then stood up shakily. 

There was a squeal of static in his ear, then “- ‘ve gotta talk to me, Barry – oh, you’re back!  Dude, are you okay?” 

“I’m fine,” said Barry as he scanned the downtown area for Mirror Master.  “You’re right though, the mirror dimension?  Not fun.  It’s basically short-range teleportation with a side order of _major headache._ ” 

“Alright.  Well it could be worse, but try not to get hit with one of those again, okay?  The system went nuts – a few more of those and you could fry the comms.” 

A shimmering reflection caught his eye, and Barry spotted the small figure of Mirror Master down by one of the storefronts with another person – presumably Lisa Snart.  “Noted.  Will avoid,” said Barry, before sprinting down the side of the building.  If he hurried, maybe he could stop Lisa from getting away with the loot. 

But no such luck – as soon as they spotted Barry approaching, Scudder opened up a new mirror and Lisa jumped inside.  Barry gritted his teeth.  Presumably the portal led straight to one of the Rogues’ safehouses. 

He ran straight for the mirror, intending to follow Lisa to wherever she was going, but Scudder threw another reflection at him before he could get close enough.  He dodged, skidding to a stop in the street, and grimly focused on the swirling mirrors.  One of those was the right one – but jumping through the wrong portal would put him back to square one, and give Lisa plenty of time to get away. 

“Barry,” said Cisco’s voice frantically, “you’ve got incoming.” 

“What?”  Barry touched his hand to his earpiece.  “More Rogues?” 

“No, it’s-” but before Cisco could finish, a blur of yellow and red zoomed straight past Barry and slammed into Mirror Master. 

Scudder flew backwards and crashed through the window of the department store.  “The Reverse-Flash?” Barry said to Cisco.  “What is he _doing?_ ” 

“I’m _helping,_ ” Eobard snapped, turning to face Barry with a glare that held no red sparks, but still challenged him to say something about it. 

Barry did anyway, of course.  “Why on earth are you helping me?  I should have thought that you’d love watching me get my ass kicked.”

“No one is allowed to kick your ass but me,” Eobard growled, and Barry’s jaw dropped.  “When he gets up – don’t look at me like that, that hit was barely a tap and he _will_ get back up – start looking for a pattern in those mirrors.”

“What about Lisa Snart?  She’s getting away with the loot she took.” 

“Forget about the loot,” Eobard said, taking a ready stance as Scudder stumbled out the front door of the building.  “If we remove this Rogue from the equation, we can take him back to STAR Labs and interrogate him until he divulges the location of the stolen goods.” 

“Why am I not surprised?” Barry muttered.  Then the fight kicked back into gear, and both of them were too busy dodging mirrors to talk. 

With another combatant in the picture, Barry had much more time to think.  Eobard’s sudden appearance seemed to have rattled Scudder – a disproportionate number of the distortions seemed to be focused on the yellow speedster, and there were many more of them now.  Scudder must have been expending minimal effort when he was fighting Barry before, focused more on keeping him away from the jewelry store robbery than actually hurting him.  With two speedsters in the picture instead of one, he must feel backed into a corner. 

Barry opened his mouth to say as much to Eobard when the other speedster feinted out of the path of two mirrors and plunged through the gap directly toward Scudder.  Mirror Master yelped and flung up a distortion in alarm; Eobard hit it at top speed –

\- And then there was an explosion from the tugboat anchored in the harbor. 

“Eobard!” Barry shouted, half-turning away from Scudder to scan the water for any signs of life. 

“So that’s his name?” said Scudder, sounding almost conversational.  The mirrors slowed their frantic tumbling as the other man also turned to look out at the water.  “Never heard of him.  He came at me like a bat outta hell, though – a friend of yours?  Sidekick?” 

Barry saw a yellow figure leap off of the boat, kicking up a spray of water behind him as he ran across the surface in the direction of the fight, and breathed a sigh of relief.  “Definitely neither of those things,” he said with a grin, turning back in the direction of a startled-looking Mirror Master.  “But he’s tougher than he looks – and you definitely just pissed him off.” 

Scudder bit his lip and the mirrors began tumbling more quickly; Eobard had definitely gotten this guy’s attention.  Barry quietly slipped around behind Scudder.  Getting in Eobard’s way wouldn’t help anyone; he’d never actually gotten to watch the Reverse-Flash fight anyone before, but he knew from personal experience what a juggernaut Eobard was when he really got going.  Scudder would have his hands full trying to keep him back. 

Of course, that would leave Barry free to act.  He took a deep breath and forced himself to focus on the shifting mirrors, not on the furious speedster racing across the bay.  Eobard was right – finding a pattern would be the key here.  A good hit, delivered at the right time, could take Scudder out of the equation and end the fight. 

Eobard exploded out of the water like a shark, and his first driving punch missed by millimeters.  A portal sprung up and sent Eobard flying through it; he emerged from another mirror above Barry’s head, and both of them fell to the ground.  There was a painful screech in his ear, and Barry winced – there went the comm.  Cisco was going to kill him. 

For a second, Eobard looked stunned by the impact – then he shook his head, pushed himself off of Barry, and clambered to his feet.  “Get a move on, Flash,” he snapped, an almost-imperceptible waver in his stance the only suggestion that the vertigo of the mirror dimension had made any impact on him at all.  “I’m not interested in doing this all day.” 

Barry opened his mouth to make a snarky reply, but before he could get a word in, another mirror opened up beneath Eobard’s feet and swallowed him up. 

Barry hoisted himself off the ground and glared at Scudder, closing both hands into fists.  “Would you knock it off?” 

Scudder waved a hand dismissively then bent over, resting his hands on his thighs and taking several large gulps of air.  “That one ought to hold him for a little while.  He’s psychotic.”

Barry took a deep breath.  “Where did that mirror spit him out?” 

“He’s down by the docks somewhere,” Scudder said.  “It’ll take him a while to get back, and I need a breather.  Don’t try anything,” he said as Barry advanced a step.  “Knock me out while he’s in the mirror dimension and he could end up stuck there for good.” 

Barry gritted his teeth and forced himself to relax his stance.  Eobard had survived an exploding tugboat – he doubted there was anything at the docks that could faze the Reverse-Flash. 

“Where on earth did you find him, anyway?” Scudder said, still breathing hard.  “I’m used to Central’s usual flavor of crazy, but that fellow is a cut above.” 

“He’s from – out of town,” Barry replied.  It was technically true, from a certain point of view.

“Thank god,” Scudder sighed.  “That’s one face I would not like to meet on a dark ni-”

The rest of his sentence was cut off as Eobard burst out of one of the floating mirrors and punched Scudder so hard he flew into the bay. 

“That’s one way to do it,” said Eobard, meeting Barry’s eyes with a wild grin. 

Barry grinned back, enjoying the victory however oddly it had come about – until he noticed the wide, jagged gashes in Eobard’s suit, slowly dripping blood.  “Um.  Eobard, you’re bleeding.”

Eobard pulled his cowl off and looked down at his chest.  “Huh,” he said, eyebrows rising slowly.  “So I am.” 

Barry moved toward the other speedster slowly.  “What did he hit you with?” 

“A tugboat explosion,” Eobard said calmly, examining the ripped part of his suit like it was the most fascinating thing in the world.  “Then a steel shipping crate.” 

“A steel – Eobard, what?”  Barry’s jaw dropped.  “You need medical attention.” 

“I’m used to taking hits,” Eobard said, shrugging nonchalantly.  “And I have a speedster’s healing.”  His face paled, and he dropped to one knee.  “Don’t worry – I am _fine._ ” 

“You are most definitely not fine,” Barry said.  “I’m taking you back to STAR Labs.” 

“I can take myself back to STAR Labs,” said Eobard mulishly, glaring up at him.  Barry took several steps forward, and his glare intensified.  “Don’t you dare – Barry Allen, if you so much as _attempt_ to carry me I will make sure that you live to regret it-”

* * *

Cisco’s jaw dropped when Barry burst into the Cortex, half-supporting, half-carrying a furiously ranting Eobard.  “Holy shit.  What happened out there?” 

Barry dodged Eobard’s flailing arm and hoisted the other speedster on the gurney.  “A lot of mirrors.  I think he ran through four of those spatial distortions.  Plus the steel shipping crate, and the tugboat explosion-”

“Jesus,” Cisco breathed, staring at Eobard as Caitlin descended on the furious speedster with med kit in hand.  “I knew he could take a hit, but that’s an absurd amount of damage.  He’s acting like he doesn’t even feel it.” 

“Oh, he definitely feels it,” Barry said grimly.  In spite of Eobard’s bravado, he hadn’t been able to stand.  Barry had been forced to put him in a fireman’s carry to get him back to STAR Labs at all, and only the almost-pleading note in Eobard’s threats had persuaded him to let the injured speedster enter the Cortex partially under his own power.  Based on the look Caitlin was shooting him, she had figured out the ruse.  He’d be getting an earful from her later, but it was better than dealing with Eobard after he’d just kept him from getting his ass kicked by Mirror Master. 

“Fine,” Eobard snapped behind him, “go ahead and waste the gauze, if it will make you feel better – I am _not severely injured.”_

“Aside from your cracked ribs and highly probable internal injuries, there is _shrapnel_ in these cuts,” Caitlin said, pointing a pair of forceps at Eobard with a glare, “and I’m confident that tetanus is just as horrible in the future as it is in 2016.” 

“My metabolism can take care of tetanus,” Eobard said, glowering up at her. 

“Fine – maybe it can.  But can it take care of shrapnel healing inside your wounds?” Caitlin retorted. 

“Better her than me, dude,” Cisco whispered as Eobard finally subsided and allowed Caitlin to go to work on his cuts.  “You should have seen him when he found out you’d gone after Mirror Master – he was _furious._ ” 

“But why?” Barry said quietly as he too watched the medical tableau unfold before him.  “I’ve fought plenty of supervillains without his help – he complained about me getting hurt, sure, but I thought that was just because it was inconvenient to have me out of commission.” 

“One would think,” Cisco said with a shrug.  “But at this point?  As bizarre as it is, I think he was pissed off because he actually cares.” 

Barry’s jaw dropped, but before he could say anything else, Eobard began to struggle into a sitting position.  “I’m going to give all of you a present,” he said, calmly ignoring Caitlin’s frantic gestures for him to lay back down.  “Go down to my room under the particle accelerator – the one where I kept Detective Thawne – and bring up the first-aid kit.” 

Barry stared at Eobard in consternation, but at a shooing hand motion from Cisco, he ran down into the disused tunnels and retrieved the small red box affixed to the wall next to the ladder.  “I fail to see how this is going to help,” he said, depositing it on the gurney. 

“You’ll see,” said Eobard.  “Open it.” 

Caitlin opened the box, and her jaw dropped.  She plucked a small bottle out of the kit and examined the label.  “Eobard,” she said slowly, “why do you have a small stash of narcotics tucked away in our basement?” 

“Don’t forget the other glass bottles,” said Eobard, ignoring her question.  “They’re the most important part.  Rig up two IV bags, one containing pethidine at an infusion rate of fifty milligrams per milliliter and a smaller one containing two milligrams per milliliter of amiodarone.  Taken together, they make quite an effective speedster painkiller,” he said, nodding at Barry. 

“You mean… this entire time, you knew a painkiller formula that would work on me?” Barry said.  “And you didn’t say anything?” 

“Pain is an excellent motivator,” said Eobard with a wry smile.  “I had hoped that suffering through your injuries without the benefit of painkillers would teach you to be more careful in the future.  To no avail, apparently, since you still allowed a speedster to break your spine.”  

“He also didn’t mention it because this formula is _literally poison,_ ” said Caitlin, her expression appalled as she looked back and forth between the bottles she was holding.  “You _never_ mix these drugs – it leads to a buildup of toxic opioid byproducts in the body, and it can’t be reversed by naloxone.  I’m pretty sure the Hippocratic Oath applies here.” 

“Caitlin, would I deliberately give you instructions to dose me with a mixed medicine that would poison me?” Eobard said calmly.  “The toxic byproducts aren’t pleasant, but a speedster’s metabolism can take care of any lingering complications and the half-life of pethidine is four hours in a normal human.  At the first sign of complications, all you have to do is remove my IV.  The amiodarone even takes care of the tachycardia issues.” 

“I’m still not sure about this,” Caitlin said, biting her lip. 

“Would it help if I told you my fallback option is usually a morphine drip, a steady dose of fomepizole, and several bottles of middling-quality wine?” Eobard said with a stiff smile. 

Caitlin stared at him in horror for several seconds, then picked up the first aid kit.  “I can’t believe you’re making me do this.” 

“If he starts hallucinating, I’m leaving,” Cisco muttered. 

Fortunately, Eobard didn’t seem to react to the low dose of pethidine much at all.  After half an hour or so of tense observation – in which he repeatedly snapped at them to stop staring – he mellowed out and gradually slipped into a slightly twitchy sleep. 

“This probably makes me a terrible person,” Caitlin whispered as she and the others watched Eobard shift on the gurney, “but Ronnie and I have dinner plans tonight with one of his coworkers and it’s important that I go.  Can I leave one of you two with him?  With those medicines he’s on, I’m not okay leaving him here by himself.”

Barry bit his lip.  “I’ll stay with him.  He was hurt helping me – it’s the right thing to do.” 

Caitlin touched his shoulder.  “He’ll need a new bag of pethidine at three AM,” she said. 

She and Cisco left the room quietly, leaving Barry alone with Eobard in the Cortex. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I didn't want to spoil anything in this chapter by thanking her up above, but another huge shout-out to WynterTwylight for all the medical research that went into Eobard's highly unsafe speedster painkiller. When I was writing this, I asked her offhandedly if she could come up with a formula for a potential painkiller for speedsters, and she delivered a dozen times over. I had a lot of fun working that research into the story! 
> 
> As always, any comments would be greatly appreciated! The fourth part needs some heavy editing, but it should be ready to post in a day or two.


	4. The Wishing Gate

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you so much for the comments on chapter 3 of this fic! I loved hearing what you had to say - I've been on cloud nine from the feedback I've gotten on this piece. Reading your thoughts really does make my day better. <3 
> 
> Time for part 4! The title of this chapter comes from the poem "The Wishing-Gate" by William Wordsworth, if anyone is curious.

Barry had never been the person in the Cortex’s waiting chair before.  It was usually him on the gurney – or, if on the off chance that someone else was injured, he was running around out there trying to fix the problem.  In all honesty, he preferred it that way.  Waiting was a drain on the brain, more taxing than it ought to have been, and the Cortex’s chairs weren’t designed to be comfortable. 

Still, it had been a long day.  In spite of his efforts to stay awake, Barry wasn’t really surprised to find himself drifting off. 

No – the far more jarring surprise was jerking back to reality with cold steel at his back and the Reverse-Flash’s hand wrapped around his throat. 

“You really did believe in me, didn’t you?” Eobard said with a wry chuckle.  “You truly believed that after all these years of enmity between us, I would somehow choose to roll over and accept the extended hand of friendship.  But you forgot – I am, and will always be, the reverse of you.”

“But you aren’t,” Barry protested weakly, struggling to pry away the hand on his neck, the arm pressing him against the unforgiving steel. 

  “It’s in your nature to forgive people.  To keep trying even when common sense should prevail,” Eobard said, tilting his head as if to study him.  “But you should know by now that everything you give, I have to take away.” 

“I don’t understand,” Barry gasped, fighting for air as Eobard crushed him against the wall of the Pipeline.  “Eobard, why – I thought this was what you wanted,” he whispered, dizzy with the lack of oxygen but still determined to know why, once and for all.  “You could have had everything you wanted.” 

“Oh, Barry,” the Reverse-Flash said, his voice quiet, almost purring with the reverberating echo behind it.  A black-gloved hand lifted Barry’s chin until he was looking into the speedster’s eyes, red like live coals, as the last of the air was squeezed from his lungs.  “I already do.” 

Barry jolted awake with a cry of shock and overbalanced, falling out of the uncomfortable chair and landing on the floor of the Cortex.  “Ow,” he groaned before sucking in a huge gulp of air, to reassure himself that his lungs still worked, he could still breathe.  _Just a nightmare_. 

There was a faint rustle on the gurney above him, and Barry froze.  “Who’s there?” Eobard croaked.  “Cisco, is that you?” 

He sounded _hopeful_ , and that was so bizarre in and of itself that Barry found the strength to force himself to his feet.  “No, Eo – Doctor – _Professor,_ ” Barry finally settled on, latching onto the new honorific, the one he’d never used, to drag himself further away from the shadow of the Reverse-Flash.  “It’s me.  Barry.” 

“Oh.”  Eobard’s voice instantly smoothed over, the jagged edges of emotion rubbing away, and even though the memory of the Reverse-Flash’s hand around his throat was still all-too-vivid, it hurt that Eobard would be that open for Cisco and not for him.  “Barry.  Why are you here?” 

“Caitlin wanted someone to make sure that there weren’t any complications from the pethidine drip,” Barry said, fidgeting.  “That homebrew of yours could kill an ordinary person.” 

“Something of an occupational hazard, I’m afraid.  Speedster metabolism won’t settle for less,” said Eobard dismissively.  He struggled to sit up, only to double over in a fit of coughing. 

“You need to stay still,” said Barry, pushing Eobard back down onto the bed.  The older man glared up at him, and Barry abruptly had to clamp his lips together to hold in an utterly inappropriate giggle.  “I’m sorry – I’m not laughing at you, it’s just I never would have guessed that you’d be such a terrible patient.” 

“I am not a terrible patient,” replied Eobard with as much dignity as he could muster.  “You, on the other hand, were impossible to deal with from the moment you woke up from your coma.  Running out of the Cortex in a sweatshirt,” he said, his mouth twisting oddly. 

“That’s true, I was a handful,” Barry snorted, a sudden burst of inspiration springing to mind.  “But now you’re the one on the gurney, and I’m the one in the chair.  Some might say our positions have been _reversed._ ” 

Eobard stared at Barry and let his head fall back onto the gurney with a metallic thunk.  “That was terrible.”  He closed his eyes with a rusty-sounding wheeze, the sheet pulled over his chest moving slightly in time with the sound.  Alarmed, Barry took a hesitant step closer, and debated picking up the phone and calling Caitlin until he realized that Eobard was _laughing._

“It’s funny.  For as long as I can remember, I’ve wanted nothing more than your undoing,” Eobard rasped, turning away from Barry.  “Stopping you, unmaking everything that you are, kept me moving and focused, gave me a drive.  The Speed Force is limitless, you know - it isn’t burdened with purpose.  Nothing can stop a speedster – our humanity is the only limit on our potential.”

“We’ll never stop being human, though,” said Barry nervously.  “I’ve met enough speedsters who tried, and – it never ended well, for any of them.  You can’t outrun everything.  Sometimes it just takes a while for things to get better.”  

Eobard lifted his head and glared at Barry.  “Why are you treating this situation like it still has the potential for a happy ending?  You won.  I’ll never be able to hurt any of you again – and you didn’t even have to lift a finger to make it happen.”  He smiled mirthlessly.  “Let me tell you a few things about myself.  When I was younger I was an undisputed master of the time stream.  Ask Rip Hunter sometime, when you meet him – he’d know me by a different name, but he’d know me.  With my abilities and scientific background, I could go anywhere and do what I pleased.  No Time Master has what we have, Barry,” he said, his voice dropping to a whisper.  “Feet that can carry us through the timestream, instincts that orient us and bring us home again.  It’s incredible,” he purred, rolling onto his back with a chuckle.  

Barry shifted uncomfortably from one foot to the other.  “Eobard-”

“Don’t call me that.” Eobard waved a hand as if to brush his own name away from the conversation.  “We’re talking about time travel and speedsters, which is my field, so right now you keep on calling me Professor.  It’s funny – before I met you, before all of this started, people who didn’t know my identity used to call me Professor Zoom.”  

“That’s – interesting,” Barry said helplessly.  “Professor, I think you should go back to sleep.  You aren’t thinking clearly – the pethidine is messing with your head.”  

“I know.”  Eobard smiled at him.  “It’s wonderful.  You have the perfect opportunity to interrogate me,” he said, turning to look Barry directly in the eye.  “I know you want to – go ahead and ask me why.  Why am I here?  Why can’t I just leave you alone?”  

“I’m not going to do that,” Barry said, guiltily ignoring the part of him that wanted to shake Eobard by the shoulders, injured or not, until he told the truth.  “I’m not going to con you into giving us answers – you could lie or make a mistake, or deliberately mislead us if you don’t want to tell us the real reason.”  

“You are impossible,” Eobard growled, struggling into a sitting position.  He coughed, batting away Barry’s hands when Barry moved hesitantly toward him.  “I am not here to give you the speedster facts of life, and I am not here to give you, you especially, the _satisfaction_ ,” he said, his lip curling, “of seeing me reduced to this.”  

“Eobard, this – needing help doesn’t reduce you,” Barry said, resting a cautious hand on the bed near the speedster’s shoulder and relaxing marginally when Eobard didn’t react.  “Everyone needs help sometimes.  It’s part of being human.”  

Eobard snorted.  “You were always good at that, Flash.  Being human.  Accepting limitations.  Funny, when the only things that can defeat a speedster are those that make us human.”  

It was an odd thing to say, but there was a ring of truth to it that Barry couldn’t help but mull over.  Zoom – Hunter – had been brought down, in the end, by his own crippling overconfidence, his lingering childhood trauma, and his disturbing obsession with Caitlin.  And in the original timeline, Eobard had quite literally been brought down by family when Eddie’s sacrifice had erased him from existence.  

Thinking about Eddie and the singularity only spawned a burst of guilt and self-recrimination.   _It’s in the past,_ Barry said to himself firmly, sitting back down in the chair and taking deep breaths while he tried to soothe his ruffled thoughts.   _The new timeline isn’t perfect, and I’m not proud of the mistakes I’ve made, but at least my friends got to live._

“Will you miss me?”  

Barry jerked upright and shook his head – in spite of everything, he’d been dozing off again.  “Huh?”  

“When I’m back in my own time,” Eobard said, staring blankly up at the ceiling tiles, “and I’m not around here anymore.  Will any of you miss me?”  

Barry swallowed.  “Um.  I don’t know where this is coming from, but I guess?  I can’t speak for Cisco and Caitlin, but – it’s been strange, having you here,” he said, rubbing the back of his neck.  “Sometimes it’s like nothing’s changed.  We’re eating Big Belly Burger in the Cortex, or you’re lecturing us on the space-time continuum, and the only difference is that you’re not sitting in your chair.  But other times-”

“-you remember that I’m the man who killed your mother,” Eobard sighed.  “That I put your father in prison, and I would have killed you too, at the time.”  

Barry shook his head.  “I know all of those things.  They’re true.  But lately I haven’t been much better than you, not really.”  

“That’s not true,” Eobard said venomously.  “You’re acting like I don’t know you, Barry, but I do.”

“Not as well as you think,” Barry said quietly.  “Did you know I’ve killed people too?”  

Eobard looked at him quizzically.  “The Flash is the patron saint of minimizing casualties.”  

“You’re funny.”  Barry looked up at the ceiling tiles.  “In the first timeline – my timeline – I killed two men.  Al Rothstein and Eddie Slick.  Metahumans from Earth-2.  Zoom sent them after me.”  

“Then you killed them in self-defense,” Eobard said, frowning.  

“That doesn’t – stop trying to justify this!” Barry snapped.  “I should have tried harder to find another way to stop them.  I shouldn’t have killed them.  Rothstein was poisoned in a nuclear reactor.  I _shattered_ Slick with a bolt of lightning.  And don’t even get me started on the time travel,” he said, his hand closing around the bedsheet.  “I killed so many people.  Whole alternate timelines full of people that I wrote out of existence on a whim.  I killed my own mother,” he said, and his vision grew blurry with tears, “when I rewrote the timeline and let you do what you did.  And-” he choked and swallowed, because this part was the worst of it, the part that kept him up at night -   

Eobard was staring at him, his pale blue eyes concerned.  

Barry took a deep breath.  “I killed myself,” he confessed in a whisper.  Eobard’s hand jerked convulsively.  “In the original timeline, when I made that time remnant – he died, trying to stop Zoom.  And the version of me that went back in time to that night, the first time?”  Barry dashed a shaking hand across his eyes, trying to wipe them clear.  “I killed him too.  I watched him fade out of existence as I erased his timeline – and the last thing he did was look me in the eyes and _smile.”_

Eobard’s hand closed around Barry’s forearm.  “Barry, I need you to listen to me,” he said, his voice low and urgent.  “You can’t carry all of this around inside of you.  The guilt will cut you apart.”  

“Eobard, I watched myself _die_.” Barry’s voice wavered.  

“But you’re still alive,” Eobard said, tightening his grip on Barry’s arm.  “I’m not going to bother telling you that your divergent timelines don’t matter – I am well aware that you won’t listen.  But your time remnants are not _you._ And all speedsters, no matter how experienced, make mistakes.”  His jaw worked briefly, and he looked away.  “I will tell you that, whether for good or ill, every decision you have ever made has at least been motivated by the best interests of others.  That, above all else, is what makes me your Reverse.”  

It was the most backward, self-deprecating praise that Barry had ever heard.  But all the same, Barry smiled faintly, feeling a tiny bloom of warmth in his chest.  He’d never gotten a compliment from Eobard before, not like that, and it felt – good.  

“Now,” Eobard said, turning to look at him out of the corner of one eye, “what time is it?”  

“Time?  It’s-” Barry checked his watch – “a few minutes after three AM.”  

Eobard nodded.  “Good.  My speedster homebrew, as you put it, has a three-hour window of effectiveness at that dose of pethidine – yes, I know how to use my own medicine – so I’m lucid enough for this.  Here’s what we’re going to do,” he said, his pale blue eyes piercing Barry’s own.  “I’m going to tell you what you want to know.  About why I’m here.  And then you’re going to give me another dose of that medicine and leave me to sleep.” 

“Caitlin wanted me to stay with you.” 

“After this, I want you to leave,” Eobard said, closing his eyes briefly.  “I’ll need to be alone.” 

Barry took a breath, startled by the burst of raw emotion, and wanted to argue more, but he swallowed his protests and nodded.  “Okay.” 

Eobard nodded, then struggled into a fully upright position.  “Cisco, of all people, actually came closest to the truth.  I don’t know why I was surprised.  Because when people talk about the timestream, they think of it as a linear flow – something with a beginning and an end.  But time and space aren’t rivers.  They’re highways, with more on and off ramps than we can fathom, and it’s all too easy to get lost in the noise.  If you’re going to travel safely through the timestream, you have to know your exit.” 

“So there is a true north for the timestream,” Barry said, raising his eyebrows. 

“Every speedster has their own,” Eobard said.  “A person or thing that they tune to – a lightning rod.  Even you have one.” 

 _Iris,_ thought Barry with a tiny phantom lurch in his stomach.  His feelings for her had begun to change – they’d had to, after he’d rewritten both of their kisses and changed the timeline into one where she got to be happy with a different man.  But she was still one of the most important people in his life, and always would be.  She was still home. 

 _Home._ “You were desperate to leave the twenty-first century,” Barry said, the wheels in his head turning.  “You needed to get back to whatever your lightning rod is.” 

Eobard shook his head.  “My point of orientation has always been a mobile one,” he said with an odd twist of his lips.  “But as an educated and respected citizen of the year 2193, I’ve been used to a certain degree of – freedom, where the timeline is concerned.  Provided I don’t make any changes to history, the occasional sightseeing sojourn to the past can do little harm.”

“So when you’re not off beating up the Flash, you’re what – a researcher?  A tourist?” said Barry, his lips twitching at the idea – Eobard Thawne, connoisseur of the timestream.  “Where were you going before you ended up stranded here?  If you don’t mind me asking,” he added quickly. 

Eobard smiled and looked up at the ceiling.  “I was planning to visit the Flash museum,” he said.  “It’s quite something – you’ll see it in your lifetime, I’m confident, but regardless of your own self-flagellating opinions on the fact that it exists, I encourage you to patronize it.” 

“I’ll think about it,” Barry said.  “Once I can wrap my head around the fact that it exists.  Or will exist.” 

Eobard chuckled.  “Same difference, for our purposes.  We’re immortalized there, you know.  A blood feud,” he said, his expression becoming distant, “one that is known throughout history even after both of our names have been lost.  Once I considered it an inviolate truth,” he said, looking at Barry.  “Now I can’t help but wonder how much of my life has been based on a lie.” 

Barry’s stomach lurched.  “Then you don’t hate me?” 

Eobard smiled, very faintly.  “No.  I imagine you’d be surprised to know,” he said, somehow managing to speak calmly in spite of the fact that he’d just turned Barry’s world upside-down, “that in my younger years I was fonder of playing the hero than you would guess.  Professor Zoom was notorious for his caprice,” he said with a smirk, “but when the mood struck him he could be helpful.” 

Barry just nodded, still too shocked to speak. 

“Of course, that changed once I learned my real identity,” Eobard said, his gaze darkening.  “I went through several iterations of my suit – red on yellow, always, as an homage to Kid Flash, but continuously varied over the years so that I could distinguish my past and future selves.  You can imagine what it meant to me, then, when I visited the Flash Museum for the first time and saw the Reverse-Flash’s suit – my suit, my _current_ suit, and not just a lucky imitation – clothing a mannequin.

Barry swallowed.  “So that was when you learned that we were destined to be enemies.  But – why?” he said.  “You’re a speedster, and you know all about our history.  You could have changed things.” 

“And altered the entire fabric of the timeline?” Eobard said with a short bark of laughter.  “Because I wanted nothing more than to be you, and was destined to be your greatest enemy instead?  No – for once in my life, I was responsible.  I accepted my destiny and everything that came with it – and look where I’ve ended up,” he said, gesturing to the gurney in disgust before dropping his hand back to his side.  “Stranded in the past, pouring out all my secrets to my childhood hero, my greatest enemy – and I _swear_ ,” he said, gritting his teeth, “if you laugh, or use this against me-”

“Eobard, I’m not going to laugh,” Barry said, touching the back of his hand.  “I promise.  Just tell me – how does all of this tie into why you’ve ended up stranded here?” 

“The million-dollar question,” sighed Eobard.  “You waste little time.  All those years I spent trying to get back to 2193, to go home?  Worthless.  A speedster’s home is whenever their lightning rod is.  And it turns out,” he said with a grimace, “that it is much easier for a speedster to return to their native time than to leave it.” 

“Your native – Eobard, what are you saying?  Am _I_ your lightning rod?” 

“No – the Flash was, at first,” Eobard corrected immediately.  Barry opened his mouth to protest, but Eobard shook his head.  “Never underestimate the power of an idea,” he said.  “The Flash was – motivating.  And having a nemesis as a lightning rod meant that I could always find him at incredibly inconvenient times.  It became something of a gift,” he said with a quick smile before sobering up again.  “I should have seen the warning signs when I became stranded in 2016 the first time, but I was younger, more inexperienced.  You know Einstein’s theory of relativity, correct?” 

“I studied that for fun when I was eight,” Barry said indignantly. 

“Just making sure,” Eobard said with a smirk.  “Well, time has a similar effect when it comes to the Speed Force, and vice versa.  Significant distortions in the Speed Force, like anchoring points, distort time around them.” 

“So for you, there’s a distortion around the year 2016,” Barry said, thinking back to old diagrams he’d seen about relativity and space-time curvature.  “It’s like temporal gravity.  So when you said you needed more speed to get home, you were basically saying that you needed a boost to get you back up to escape velocity.” 

Eobard tilted his head, considering.  “Not a way I had thought of phrasing the situation, but in essence – yes.” 

Barry nodded.  His team could work with an explanation like that.  There really wasn’t any way of stopping Eobard from returning to 2016 if he wanted to, but they would at least be prepared if it happened again.  It helped that Eobard seemed embarrassed enough about the whole thing that he probably wouldn’t plan a repeat visit anytime soon. 

There was just one more thing bothering him.  “You said that your lightning rod being another speedster, or the idea of one, made it easier for you to run around in the timestream,” Barry said with a frown.  “So if that’s the case I’m curious – why end up stuck in 2016?” 

Barry hadn’t realized how much Eobard had relaxed over the course of their conversation until the other speedster stiffened and turned on him with a glare.  “Don’t you dare say it.” 

“You were stranded in the year 2000,” Barry continued, forcing himself to ignore the tiny, strangled sound that Eobard made.  “But it was because you’d lost access to the Speed Force.  You started getting it back in bursts, but something changed.” 

Eobard’s eyes narrowed.  “Stop.” 

“It’s me, isn’t it,” Barry breathed.  “Me and Cisco and Caitlin.  Team Flash.” 

Eobard looked away from Barry, his shoulders hunched.  “You said that you wouldn’t laugh at me.” 

“Laugh – Eobard, I’m not laughing,” said Barry.  He placed his hand on the gurney, and Eobard flinched.  “Caring about other people isn’t something that anyone will laugh at you for.” 

“Except it’s an unmitigated disaster,” Eobard snapped.  “I’ve been the Reverse-Flash for longer than you’ve been alive.  I’ve been chasing your shadow ever since I first learned that you _existed_ , and to be chained down to a time and place because I happened to care too much – it’s intolerable,” he said with a grimace. 

Barry swallowed.  “Eobard, I don’t hate you,” he said, inching his hand toward the speedster’s arm.  Would he make things worse, if he tried to offer some kind of reassurance?  “And Cisco and Caitlin – we all know that you’re trying, in your own way.”

“ _My way_ will never be good enough.  I am who I am – I will continue to lie to people, and hurt them.  No matter how I try to make up for what I’ve done in the past, I will always come up short,” Eobard sighed, closing his eyes and looking away.  “I don’t get what I want.” 

There was a finality, a terrible weight to his voice that made Barry shiver.  “Hey – Eobard, _no_.  You don’t get to just roll over and decide that you’ll never be any better than who you are,” he said firmly, his hand closing around Eobard’s arm.  “If we’re going to talk about broken pedestals, all I need to do is look in the mirror.  I turned the timestream into Swiss cheese because I couldn’t accept my mother’s death, and ever since then I’ve been bending over backwards trying to undo my mistakes – not because it’s the right thing to do, but because I owe it to people to get better and try harder.”

Eobard didn’t move, but some of the tension eased out of his frame.  “And if I tell you that I’m willing to make an effort,” he said quietly, “you’ll just do – what?  Forgive me?” 

“We can make it a team effort and forgive each other,” said Barry with a smile.  “I realize you can’t tell me about what future-me and past-you got up to, but I’m sure there’s at least a few things I’d take back.” 

Eobard smiled faintly, but it was there.  “Very well,” he sighed.  “Now, if you wouldn’t mind, I’d like my second IV.  It’s late, my ribs are knitting themselves back together, and this conversation has been mentally and emotionally exhausting.”

Barry nodded and hooked up the second IV bag on its stand while Eobard slipped the tip of the needle into the cannula.  “Do you still want me to leave?” he asked cautiously.  “I know you said you wanted to be alone, but you don’t have to be.” 

Eobard hesitated.  “I appreciate the offer, but I think it would be wise if you left,” he said slowly.  “I have – much to process.” 

“Okay,” Barry said, resisting the brief temptation to rest his hand on Eobard’s arm again.  “Are you mad at me?” 

“I am angry,” Eobard sighed tiredly.  He blinked and swallowed once before turning to meet Barry’s eyes.  “But I’m not angry with you.  I’ll see you in the morning, Barry.” 

Barry nodded, then turned on his heel and forced himself to leave the Cortex and its sole occupant behind.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> You might have noticed that this fic is part of a series. I don't know when I'll be writing it, but this story will have a sequel - possibly even several! I have a few ideas about things to include, but if I end up doing a string of shorter oneshots or a drabble series, I would love to hear any ideas/prompts that you have and would like to see included. I probably won't use every idea, but that's up in the air at this point! Just thought I'd test the waters on that idea. 
> 
> If you want to send me a message, shoot an ask in my direction, or just chat - seriously, I talk a LOT - my Tumblr url is also cardinalstar!


	5. Making Time

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Here is part five! I admit I'm sad to be coming to the end of this fic - posting it has been a lot of fun. I'm glad that people have enjoyed reading this. I will be continuing this series with at least one sequel, and probably more, but as of yet I'm not sure when that will happen! In the meantime, thanks to all the people who helped me with ideas and proofreading, the readers who left kudos and comments, and for WynterTwylight for having a birthday and giving me an excuse to write it! <3

“I ought to be mad at you for leaving him by himself,” sighed Caitlin after Barry had filled them in on what had happened the night before, “but under the circumstances I suppose I can’t really blame you.” 

“Agreed,” said Cisco with a slow nod.  “That was some heavy stuff.  Does everything he said check out?” 

“From what I know of the Speed Force, it all seems possible,” Barry said.  “I don’t know time travel like Eobard, so there’s always the chance that I could have misinterpreted something.  But I don’t think so.”  He paused and took a deep breath, remembering the anguish that had been behind Eobard’s stare when he’d finally come clean.  “It hurt him, to tell me all this.” 

Caitlin nodded.  “I get the feeling that you discussed more than you’re letting on,” she said with a small smile.  “But I’m not going to pry.” 

“That’s probably for the best,” said Eobard, stepping into the Cortex in his yellow suit.  The gashes had been neatly stitched that morning by Cisco, and Eobard himself seemed, aside from a slight hitch in his step, none the worse for wear from the beating he’d taken yesterday. 

The uncomfortable silence that filled the room made Barry choke back a giggle.  He’d spent a largely sleepless night after leaving STAR Labs, but he wasn’t about to break his no-laughing promise right before Eobard went back to 2193.  “Um – I’ll be right back,” he said.  “Gotta get my suit.” 

“You do that,” Eobard said, fiddling idly with one of the tools on Cisco’s workbench and ignoring the engineer’s indignant glare. 

Barry reached for the mannequin, but froze when he caught Eobard watching him out of the corner of one eye.  Belatedly, Barry remembered his conclusion about the inadvertent super-speed stripteases he’d been giving and fled the room to change. 

He could have sworn he heard Eobard chuckle. 

“Okay, that’s settled,” Barry said, coming back into the room as soon as his face had faded to a more-manageable shade of tomato.  “I guess this is it?” 

“Yeah – I guess it is,” Cisco said. 

An awkward silence descended over the room before Eobard turned on his heel and walked out, waving cheerfully and dropping Cisco’s wrench to the ground as he left. 

“Wha – you asshole!” Cisco gasped.  “I fixed your suit and this is how you repay me?” 

“See you around, Cisco, Caitlin,” Eobard replied.  He continued down the hallway without looking back, and Barry followed closely behind, biting his lip to keep from laughing. 

Eobard glanced at Barry as he fell in step beside him.  “You told them, didn’t you?”

“Not everything,” Barry admitted, rubbing the back of his neck, “but enough.  There were some bits I left out.  They didn’t seem – appropriate.” 

There was a stilted silence.  “I appreciate that,” Eobard finally said.  “You mustn’t misunderstand what I said – I don’t want you to accept my negative qualities and actions without fail.  But I know your own history is complicated enough that we have some common ground.” 

Before this week, Barry would probably have punched anyone who told him he had something in common with the Reverse-Flash.  Now, he simply nodded.  “That whole speech about interrogating you when you were out of it on painkillers, by the way.  You wanted to be able to hate me for tricking it out of you.” 

Eobard shrugged one shoulder.  “It was worth a try.  Obviously it didn’t work.” 

“To be fair, I’m not that surprised,” Barry said.  “You had a reputation at stake.” 

“I confess this entire debacle has left me in something of a predicament,” Eobard said, his eyes darting away from Barry’s.  “After my scene last night, I doubt you consider me nemesis material, or even particularly terrifying.” 

“You can still be terrifying when you want to be, but in my view this is probably for the best,” Barry replied.  “I never thought I’d be particularly good at having a nemesis.  Too much bloodshed, too little reward.” 

Eobard tilted his head.  “Truer words than you know,” he finally settled on saying.  “Barry – I realize that after yesterday, this might be a moot point.  But it bears saying that, in spite of the fact that we have a complicated history, I have – enjoyed having the opportunity to interact with you in a less-hostile capacity.” 

A slow smile spread across Barry’s face.  “Was that genius-future-scientist speak for ‘I want us to be friends?’”

Eobard took a deep breath and exhaled slowly.  “I would like to make the effort,” he said hesitantly.  “I admit I was concerned that our conversation last night might have altered the timeline in and of itself – but since Cisco isn’t currently seizing on the floor of the Cortex, I can only assume that us being on friendlier terms is somehow allowed.” 

Barry frowned.  “Well, when you think about it, we aren’t really changing history,” he said.  “I might not have a deadly rivalry with _you_ anymore, but your past self won’t know that.” 

“You’re right,” Eobard muttered.  “My younger self would undoubtedly take advantage of any hesitation on your part and attack you.  A small cosmetic alteration to my suit ought to do the trick and allow you to distinguish between my past and future selves, but we should have some other means of identifying ourselves as well.” 

“What about some sort of verbal code?” Barry suggested.  “A string of responses that your past self, or any potential time remnants of mine, wouldn’t know?” 

Eobard nodded slowly.  “It would have to be a convoluted or lengthy one, but that could work.” 

They continued to hash out and discard various code phrases until they stepped into the door of the Pipeline.  Barry looked at Eobard and sighed.  “You probably won’t want to come back to 2016 after this.” 

Eobard tilted his head.  “I wouldn’t rule out the possibility – I have important connections here,” he said, ignoring Barry’s eye-roll.  “But you’re correct - it will likely be quite some time.” 

“But you said we’d stay in touch,” said Barry, even though that wasn’t technically how Eobard had phrased things.

“I did,” Eobard replied casually.  “I also happen to have a very powerful and sophisticated piece of technology at my disposal, invented by a man with whom I have a long and complicated history.  It just so happens to be quite adept at communicating across the timestream.” 

Barry shot Eobard a flat, unimpressed look.  “This is your way of telling me to work harder on Gideon, isn’t it.” 

“I will neither confirm nor deny that statement,” Eobard said with the smug smile that was beginning to become familiar. 

Barry couldn’t believe this.  “Come on, Eobard – I get enough of this from Cisco!” 

“Would it help if I told you that you are much-beloved even in my time because of your work on the Gideon interface?” said Eobard, looking pleased with himself when Barry’s jaw dropped.  “It’s true – while the Flash’s identity is a little-known secret, Barry Allen is a household name among the Time Masters and my other colleagues.  They always found it remarkable, that an AI capable of interfacing with counterparts throughout time and space should be invented in the twenty-first century even though time travel wouldn’t become commonplace for another eighty years or so,” he said smugly.  “I confess to finding it an intriguing mystery myself in my younger years.  And we might just have solved it.” 

“Are you saying that I invent an AI for the purpose of making trans-temporal social calls?” Barry said, staring at Eobard in consternation.  “Doesn’t that seem like overkill to you?” 

“You invented Gideon for some purpose,” said Eobard with a shrug.  “Frankly, social calls to – _allies_ – seems as good a purpose as any.”    

Barry shook his head slowly, still busy turning over the word _allies_ in his head.  “I can’t believe I’m hearing this.  Besides, doesn’t you telling me this violate some law of temporal causality or something?” 

Eobard smiled.  “As long as you name your AI prototype Gideon, I think we’re in the clear.” 

The other speedster hesitated for a long second before turning to face Barry.  “You know, there are a number of – gestures, that differ between my time and this one.  People still hold hands, but the formal conventions are different.  This, for instance,” he said, clasping a hand around Barry’s wrist, “is how you say hello to a person you respect.” 

Barry folded his hand around Eobard’s wrist in return.  “Or how you say goodbye.” 

“Yes.  But not forever, Mr. Allen,” said Eobard with a tiny smile, releasing him.  “I have a feeling that we’ll see each other again.” 

Running Eobard back in time was simple, but strange.  The last time Barry had raced another speedster, he’d been in the fight of his life against Zoom, and the time before that he’d been returning a younger and much more dangerous Eobard to the twenty-second century.  Never before had he gotten the opportunity to just run with a speedster who wasn’t interested in killing him, and he wished he had longer to get used to the feeling of fellowship, not quite camaraderie but something close to it. 

When the wormhole opened up and Eobard vanished into the timestream, Barry watched him go with an oddly hollow feeling.  They would run into each other again, of that he was certain – but it was strange, being sad to see the back of Eobard Thawne. 

He waited until the blue light of the wormhole had faded, then turned and headed back to the Cortex. 

* * *

If Cisco and Caitlin guessed the motive behind Barry’s sudden interest in working on the Gideon interface, they were at least kind enough to not tease him about it.  Cisco was particularly enthusiastic, but he was also adamantly against Barry cross-referencing his schematics with those of the lab’s original Gideon.  “And don’t even think about asking me to vibe answers for you either,” he threatened, poking Barry in the chest.  “You’ve gotta do this yourself.” 

Caitlin had been a bit more encouraging, and he’d also gotten a brief but utterly bizarre visit from Mick Rory, of all people, who had offered to help out with the construction of the AI by stealing any parts that Barry needed.  Barry had – politely – declined, but he was more confused about how Mick knew Gideon existed in the first place, or why Sara Lance called him in the middle of a fit of near-hysterical laughter after he’d let Oliver and his team know about the perplexing encounter. 

Even Gideon herself was refusing to give him any hints, which was monumentally unfair.  Barry eventually managed to get out of her that his future self, the asshole, had programmed her with clear and explicit instructions not to tell his younger counterpart anything about her design until after he’d constructed a working prototype and shown it to her. 

“It’s ridiculous!” Barry complained to Cisco.  “A known criminal was more helpful than my own AI.” 

“You realize you’re getting no sympathy from me, right?” Cisco said, raising an eyebrow.  “You can read a computer science textbook in like, zero-point-two seconds, you know.” 

Of course, the problem with that was that the textbook hadn’t yet been written on chronodynamically-enabled central processors – or so Barry thought. 

Several days later, Barry blew through the front door of STAR Labs to find Caitlin and Cisco staring at a small, rectangular brown box.  “Um.  Guys, what is that?” 

“We have no idea,” Caitlin said.  “There’s no shipping label, no return address – just a date, written all over the box.  January 12, 2017.  That’s today.” 

“I’m going to hold pretty firm to the ‘bomb’ option,” Cisco said nervously.  “I realize the Flash’s public approval rating is at an all-time high, but all it takes is one nutjob with a grudge.” 

Barry took a deep breath.  “Okay.  We’ll open it – and then if it really is a bomb, I’ll run it out into the middle of the desert.  Let’s do this.” 

Cisco pulled an honest-to-god letter opener out of a pocket – where had he even gotten that? – and went to work cutting through the tape of the tightly-bound box.  He pulled the lid open gingerly to reveal a small book, bound in some sort of synthetic material that Barry couldn’t recall ever having seen before. 

“An Introductory Guide to Chronocorrective Programming,” Barry read off the front cover.  “What the hell?” 

“Um.  Look at the byline,” Cisco said. 

Barry removed the book from its box and his jaw dropped when he saw “Eobard Thawne” listed in the bottom right corner among the book’s authors.  “Guys, I can’t believe this.  He literally _wrote the book_ on time travel computers.” 

“I need to see a publication date _immediately,_ ” said Cisco, all but snatching the book from Barry’s hands and opening the front cover.  “Holy shit – this thing was published in 2184!  We are holding a book from the future,” he said, his eyes as round as saucers.  “This is the coolest thing – I want to vibe this so bad, but no spoilers!  I’ve gotta resist.  Barry, take it away from me.” 

Barry took the textbook and flipped through the first few pages, his jaw dropping further with each impossible diagram and chart.  “It’ll take me years to figure out everything this book says.  The science literally hasn’t been invented yet.” 

He flipped back to the inside front cover, and his stomach lurched when he noticed the message in the bottom corner, written in familiar spiky handwriting:

 

_To Barry,_

_At the risk of appearing unflatteringly self-congratulatory, I have enclosed a copy of one of my earlier, less technical works in the field of chronodynamics.  Cisco and Caitlin are welcome to read it if they would like.  I suspect that you will find Chapter Nine particularly instructive._

_Sincerely yours,_

_Eobard_

He’d signed his name with a formal signature beneath the note, a looping design that emphasized the E and T particularly heavily.  “E.T.  Oh my god.”  Barry pressed a hand to his mouth to stifle the slightly hysterical giggle that was trying to force its way to the surface. 

“We now have an _autographed textbook_ from the _future,_ ” Cisco breathed.  “This is the trippiest thing that has ever happened to me.  I need to go lie down.” 

Later that day when Barry was perusing the textbook, he gave up on the earlier sections – gibberish – and flipped to chapter nine.  To his surprise, it wasn’t about computer programming at all.  It was a history of the field of chronodynamics, from its origins as a scientific discipline near the mid-2060s through the founding of the Time Masters.  Sprinkled throughout were references to Gideon – the refinements made to the system, its integration into time-traveling ships like the infamous _Waverider,_ and even to Barry himself. 

Also sprinkled throughout were dates – years, mostly, but also specific dates.  One such date – July 30, 2047 – was highlighted in yellow wherever it appeared, in what looked like an actual alteration to the text and not an original part of the book. 

“Cisco,” Barry said slowly, “if you vibed this book, do you think you could help guide me to somewhere in the future?  Like, a specific date?” 

“Probably?” Cisco said, crossing the room and staring down at the yellow-highlighted date.  “Whoa – that looks like a message.  What happened on July 30 in 2047?” 

“There was a warehouse fire at Thawne Industries,” Barry said, swallowing.  “Some important pieces of inventory were destroyed, and others were never recovered – including some more advanced early models of Gideon’s central processing chip.  It would be missing the software, but if I really am supposed to go to this date and pick up one of these chips-”

“We could reverse-engineer a version using the tech we already have,” Cisco said, nodding slowly.  “I still think this is cheating, but I’m hardly about to argue with a stable time loop.” 

“We should try to integrate the Chronotron monitor’s software,” said Barry, shooting a glance at the sleek black box.  “It can already detect temporal anomalies – I can try tweaking the programming a bit, and it might give us somewhere to start.” 

Cisco smiled.  “Now that is an idea I can get behind.”

* * *

Barry had done his best to prepare himself for the culture shock of Central City circa 2047, but to his relief, things weren’t as different as he’d been expecting.  The skyline looked slightly different, and many of the shopfronts had different owners, but apart from the more futuristic tech he saw around him – particularly where the cars were concerned – it looked like the Central he remembered. 

He wasn’t sure where the Thawne Industries warehouse would be located, but it stood to reason that it would be on the other side of the river somewhere, among the other industrial buildings.  A quick sprint around the waterfront was sufficient to locate the building, which had a logo familiar enough to stand out like a sore thumb – a stylized lightbulb inside a tall, narrow rectangle, with the initials T.I printed beside it.  The typeface and layout were so similar to the STAR Labs logo that Barry chuckled. 

The laugh died on his lips when there was a whoosh of air displacement behind him, a crackle of energy.  Barry turned and found himself face-to-face with the Reverse-Flash. 

His heart stopped beating, then crashed into motion with an emotion that he couldn’t place – fear, anticipation, excitement even – but he didn’t speak, just focused on the red-eyed speedster across from him and waited for the Reverse-Flash to make the first move, just like they’d discussed. 

“It’s been a while, Scarlet,” called Eobard, and Barry barely managed to keep himself from sagging with relief.  It was the first line of their code – the Reverse-Flash didn’t use epithets, so Eobard borrowing the nickname that Leonard Snart had coined was unlikely to happen by coincidence. 

Still, it was possible – and that was why they’d agreed on additional checkpoints.  “It has,” Barry replied.  “What brings you _zooming_ through this time?”

“I was in the neighborhood and thought you might be interested in seeing me,” Eobard said, and Barry fought to contain a grin – this was exactly what they’d discussed, word-perfect, and aside from the peace of mind that it brought to know that he wasn’t about to be attacked, it was still flattering that Eobard had taken the time to remember the code so perfectly. 

But there was still one more phrase.  “It’s always interesting to see you,” said Barry, allowing himself to smile.  “Professor.” 

Eobard visibly relaxed, and the red glow faded from his eyes.  “Flash.  It’s good to see you,” he said to Barry with a smile that was far warmer than Barry had expected.  “Let’s go inside the warehouse so we can talk.” 

Barry followed him, a bit cautious – this was the Thawne family’s stomping grounds, not his – but he was willing to take a gamble on Eobard’s note and his surprisingly warm smile as assurances of his good intentions. 

To his surprise, once they were inside, the first thing Eobard did was remove his cowl and run his fingers through his hair to straighten it.  He still looked like Dr. Wells, though Barry didn’t really expect him to look any different – DNA-level alterations were probably impossible to reverse, even in the twenty-second century.  “Since you’re here and you’re actually on time,” Eobard said, “I’m assuming you’re from 2017.  Did you get my note?” 

“I did,” Barry said, removing his own cowl.  “And the book.  I’m looking forward to reading it, once I can figure out what more than half of it means.” 

Eobard chuckled warmly.  “I had a feeling you’d say something to that effect,” he said.  “I’ve got two pieces of advice for you today, and that’s all.  First, the parts you’re looking for are in the back of the warehouse, in a small safe.  One of the last times we spoke, you told me what you’d reverse-engineered from the technology and I took the liberty of setting aside the appropriate pieces for you.” 

“That’s – really nice of you,” said Barry, relieved but taken aback.  “Thanks.  Have we – do we see each other often, then?” 

Eobard smiled, his gaze becoming distant.  “Not quite as often as I would like,” he said silkily.  “We are both busy men, after all.  But, in one way or another, we always manage to make time.” 

“And the warehouse,” Barry said, trying his best to ignore the pun.  “We aren’t going to have to burn it down, are we?” 

Eobard snorted.  “There was an electrical fire,” he said.  “Completely unrelated to us.  Don’t worry – I haven’t completely forgotten about your moral code.  The Flash will be expected to show up and save all the workers inside, of course.” 

“Okay,” Barry said, taking a deep breath.  “Are you going to stick around and help with that?” 

“Nope,” said Eobard cheerfully.  “I have a press conference waiting for me back in 2195, and the Reverse-Flash isn’t known throughout history as a Good Samaritan.” 

“Of course,” sighed Barry.  “I suppose I shouldn’t be surprised.  And what was the second piece of advice?” 

“Simply to keep being yourself,” said Eobard with a gleam in his eye.  “And,” he said, taking Barry’s hand and lowering his head, “to keep an open mind.” 

The Flash suit was made of skintight tripolymer, but the glove and the sleeve were separate pieces.  As Eobard raised his hand, Barry noticed the fabric of the tripolymer ride up on his arm slightly, exposing a small patch of skin – and Eobard kissed him.

It shouldn’t have been as big a deal as it was.  But the slow brush of Eobard’s warm, slightly-dry lips across the back of Barry’s wrist made him shiver from head to toe.  He might have gasped.  He was definitely blushing. 

Eobard lowered his hand and smiled at him, looking unbelievably satisfied with himself.  “I will admit – I’ve wanted to see your face when I did that for quite some time,” he murmured. 

“Does that mean something different in the future than it does in 2017?” Barry croaked.  “Or do you just kiss the hands of every superhero you meet?” 

Eobard laughed.  “That, Barry Allen,” he said with a grin, “is for me to know and you to find out.” 


End file.
